Redemption
by gnrkrystle
Summary: Directly after the fall of Voldemort, Wizarding Britain finds itself thrust into a new kind of injustice. Do criminals deserve rights? Can they find redemption? Or do the terrible choices they made ruin them for life? Hermione/Draco. Some angst. M for a reason. Mostly Canon compliant except EWE, however I take artistic license with some details.
1. War is Over

**Redemption**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even my house. I rent. :)**

 ** _A/N: Okay, guys. It's been a really long time. Since I last posted a story, I've moved back to the States and lots of other things have happened, but I got the writing bug again and so, here goes. Currently this is unbeta'd but eventually, I hope to have my wonderful, fantastic, amazing beta give it a gander. Until then, all mistakes are mine. I'm not sure how long this will be, as with all of my stories, I write as it comes and sometimes that leads us down a long road and sometimes not. Here's the first chapter, I do hope you enjoy. Leave me feedback, it satisfies the muse._**

* * *

 **War is Over**

Day 1

 _Brilliant. Just bloody brilliant._ Draco sighed as he looked to the Auror who was in the middle of a spectacularly condescending lecture about Malfoys since the dawn of time. He glanced between his mother and father and, not for the first time, cursed to himself about the stupidity of his optics-impaired sire. What did he think? They could just leave the Battle of Hogwarts in the middle and no one would notice or come looking for them?

It took less than six hours before the pious Aurors, the ones who hadn't bothered to show up to the battle at all, came looking for the Malfoys. They were, after all, one of the only Voldemort supporters that had escaped, though Draco would point out that by the end they were little more than hostages of the Dark Lord anyway.

Still, there was no way any of the three of them were making it out of the new 'Golden Age' without paying for their crimes, real or perceived. And Draco had resigned himself to spending the next twenty or so years in Azkaban. There was no going back. No matter how much he regretted his moronic choices over the past few years, it was over. The jig was up. Perfect fucking Potter would be thrilled.

"Do you have evidence of these supposed crimes," he heard his father ask imperiously. For that, he let out a more audible sigh. What was he going to try? The Imperious defense again? Knowing it would only make it harder on everyone if they resisted, Draco stepped forward and offered his wand to the Auror.

The Auror looked startled for a moment before nodding swiftly and taking the wand before binding Draco's hands behind his back.

"Draco!" his mother cried in horror. He just shook his head at her.

"Mother, it's for the best. They aren't just going to go away." Though even Draco had no idea the danger he was putting himself in by entering Ministry custody.

* * *

Ministry detention was not as bad as Draco had assumed. He had visions of dark dungeons, cobwebs, and ice cold stone floors. Perhaps it was the eighteen years growing up in Malfoy Manor that skewed his idea of imprisonment, but the Ministry housing was not bad, even if he was without his wand and hungry.

Not that he would have ever admitted it to _anyone_ , even under threat of hippogriff attack, but he was scared. He'd had just enough courage to turn himself over to the Aurors. After that, he found himself nearly shaking with fear. All the times he's pretended to be courageous or taunted a fellow student or walked around with an air of confidence had been from the underlying confidence he had in his father or the Dark Lord. In reality, Draco was scared shitless most of the time on his own.

How could he defend himself against what would probably be a pretty compelling case to lock him in Azkaban and throw away the key? That he was scared? That he didn't know what else to do? That he was in too deep before he realized how wrong he'd been to hero-worship a psycho? No one would care. Hell, he would turn his nose up at such a defense. What kind of person turns his life over to a clearly deranged murderer?

Well, the kind of person who never really believed he had a choice, but even as Dumbledore always said: we all have choices. Draco just made all the wrong ones.

Draco leaned over and rested his hot forehead on the cold metal surface of the interrogation table in his room. Counting his breaths he tried to relax. Whatever would happen, he had no control. He never had any control over anything. Why should his figurative demise be any different.

* * *

Hermione was exhausted. Even after months on the run, including many sleepless, worrying nights, she'd never been _this_ tired. It was an emotional and physical fatigue that made her barely able to function. She didn't even have the energy for a proper _Scourgify_ before collapsing next to Harry on one of the Gryffindor common room couches and passing out for ten straight hours.

Of course, she and Harry had made sure Ron was okay first. Hogwarts was a disaster but its physical damage paled in comparison to the deep gash of mourning that had ripped through the Weasley family. If Hermione had not been so physically and emotionally spent, she might have broken down at the news of Fred's death. She assumed the weight of that loss would hit her soon enough. But it _had_ hit Ron, square in the chest, and she knew he needed time with his family to come to terms with his loss. Their kiss, whatever it had been, could clearly wait.

Upon waking, Hermione felt only slightly rejuvenated, but certainly able to function. At that point, she took an efficient shower and debated about whether to let Harry continue to sleep or wake him. Finally, she decided to wake him if only to make plans for where he could get much needed rest and rescue from the crowds she knew would want to hound him with praise as soon as they were able to regroup as well.

"Harry," she called, shaking him lightly. A few years ago, that wouldn't have come close to being enough to wake the great Harry Potter from a deep sleep. But many years and battles later, he was a much lighter sleeper and his eyes snapped open, green meeting brown as he began to remember where he was and what had just happened a few short hours ago.

"How's Ron?" Harry asked, first, sitting up and wincing at the stiff muscles that protested.

"Let's find out," Hermione said with a sad smile. Harry nodded. "First, a shower for you, though." Looking down, Harry smirked at his appearance and gave her a quick nod before moving up the boys' staircase to clean up.

* * *

Ron was better than he had been hours ago, and for that Hermione was grateful. However, she had no idea what to say to him or how to help him through his grief. She loved Fred, but Fred was not her brother. She couldn't imagine the kind of pain the whole family was in, nor could she seem to figure out what level of intrusiveness was appropriate for a girlfriend. Or, was she a girlfriend? She had no idea. And now was the absolutely worst time to try to figure it out. Instead, she wrapped an hand in the hand of the boy she'd loved, in some form or another, since she was twelve, and watched as Harry tried to determine what to do with the Elderwand.

Deep down, she thought it was best the damn thing be destroyed. It would only be a matter of time before some psychopath with an ego decided he or she had right to it and would kill Harry in a heartbeat to take claim. As per usual, Ron was leaning toward keeping it. _Imagine how powerful you could be, Harry!_ She assumed it would always be the same. Harry facing a difficult question and Hermione and Ron the angel and devil, respectively, on his shoulder urging him to a decision.

In this case, she thought Harry was leaning her way, and as he broke the wand in half, she sighed with relief. No one needed that blasted thing anyway. Look how much trouble it had already caused.

"So, that's it then," Ron said, a bit disappointed.

"That's it," Harry said with finality. Hermione just smiled.

"Okay, then," Ron said with a shrug. Apparently, the debate was not important enough to him for sulking. "What's next?"

And that was the question they'd all been thinking about over the last hours. What's next?

"Dunno," Harry mumbled. "I suppose we find any rogue Death Eaters. Then we rebuild the school. And probably, I'll have to…"

"Harry," Hermione cut in. "You don't have to do any of those things if you don't want to. You did more than enough for a lifetime." She knew he felt responsible for the Wizarding World's problems, but he needed to know that now that Dumbledore was no longer there, pushing him toward his so-called destiny, he was free. Blessedly free.

"I know but…" Harry started but Ron interjected this time.

"Hermione's right. You need a vacation. You are seventeen and have been living on the edge since birth. The Aurors can take care of the rest. Hogwarts isn't going to fall to the ground without you, mate." Hermione smiled at Ron and squeezed his hand.

"Besides," she added. "I overheard Kings talking last night and the Aurors should be rounding up the strangling Death Eaters as we speak. None of them are in very good shape at this point. And due to treaty, they have nowhere to run."

Harry sighed, and it seemed to her like relief. "I suppose I'll stick around for the f-funerals then," he said quietly. "Then perhaps I'll go back to Number 12 Grimmauld Place and see if it can't be salvaged." Seeming satisfied with that plan he looked to his friends. "What about you?"

"I want to find my parents and see if I can fix their memories," Hermione said, though she was doubtful it was possible. Perhaps with Flitwick's help…

"I don't know," Ron said sadly. "I suppose I'll try to help George with the shop. He's not…well."

"I'm so sorry, Ron," Harry grimaced.

"It's not your fault," Ron said. "Fred wanted to fight. We all knew this could happen."

"We are here for you, Ron," Hermione said. "Whatever you need." Pulling the two men into her chest she hugged them both tight, still amazed that all three of them made it out alive.

* * *

 ** _Day 5_**

Apparently, Ministry detention was going to be home for quite a while. Draco sighed to himself as he considered his options. The Malfoy solicitors had already come and gone and all three seemed to think that his mother would get off on all charges. She had no mark. She'd committed no actually war crimes nor had she ever used an Unforgivable - according to her wand scan. They figured he could get as much as twenty years in Azkaban or as little as five year of probation depending on how seriously the Wizengamot wanted to take his attempt at murdering Albus Dumbledore.

His father…well, his father was in deep shit. No one was ever going to buy the 'Imperious Defence' he'd used last time around. He was a Death Eater who not only had a number of Unforgivables on his wand scan, he also personally victimized The Pottered One's little girlfriend via horcrux-holding Diary, and had hosted the Dark Lord willingly before it became not so willing. Lucius Malfoy was probably never going to be a free man again. Draco didn't know how to feel about that.

On the one hand, Lucius had never been the kind of Father that made Draco feel devastated at his potential loss. However, he _was_ his father. And what, if not family, mattered in this incredibly confusing world? Sure, his father had gotten them into this mess in the first place. Sure, his father's misguided attempt to cling to the old ways was why Draco had been branded from he age of sixteen and nearly died trying to kill the most powerful Wizard in recent history. But, deep down, didn't Lucius do it all for hid family? Draco liked to believe he had.

Still, while their fates seemed more or less easy to determine, the question was, 'When will we actually go to trial?' and for that, the Malfoys' team of attorneys had no answers. As the new government, headed by the latest opportunistic bureaucrat restructured itself, it could be months or even years before they managed to put together a proper Wizengamot. After all, wasn't that the same body that was just locking up people for being born to Muggles only days before? And now the political winds had changed so there would be a mad dash by all politicians involved to distance themselves from their own actions and maintain what power they could.

The Order would not be having it, Draco assumed. Though, he didn't know much about what was going on outside the four walls he called home but what was written in the libelous rag known as the _Daily Prophet_ and what his lawyers told him. Draco wasn't stupid. He could guess that if there was an opportunity for harsh punishment, he'd likely get that over a more lenient sentence. After all, there was no love lost between him and the Order, especially Potter, and the Wizengamot would be burying their own guilt in a spectacle of punishment for anyone else they could deflect attraction to. The Malfoy Trials would have the populist vengeance seekers thirsty for blood. Draco knew that, but he couldn't stop the flicker of hope that swelled within him. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad. Maybe they'd see he had few other options. Of course, Draco was foolish to hope.

* * *

 ** _Day 15_**

"Utterly ridiculous," Hermione muttered to herself. "That horrible toad should be tried for war crimes, not reelected into the governing body that is supposed to determine the guilt of others."

"I know, but she has a lot of political power," Harry reasoned as he attempted to repair a chair that had been upturned months ago in their flight from Sirius' old house before their never ending camping trip. He'd been piecing the house together little by little for over a week.

"I don't know how you can be so calm about this," Hermione nearly screeched. "Dolores Umbridge has avoided any charges and will be sitting in the Wizengamot, albeit in a lesser position. She sentenced Muggle-borns to harsh sentences. She stole from them. She's vile!"

"Of course it bothers me," Harry snapped, but his tone softened when Hermione looked properly chastised. She knew she was placing her frustrations on the wrong person. But Ron was so hard to talk to these days, which she understood. But it still meant that Harry bore the brunt of her frustrations. "What can I do? I don't control anything. Maybe the Order listens to me, but the Order isn't running that mess of a Ministry. Everyone is jumping to cover their arse after they totally fucked up the Voldemort situation. We got rid of some key Death Eaters from the Ministry, but Kingsley assures me that we have to pick our battles."

"I'd pick this one," Hermione grunted.

"Yeah, well, then do it. But I'm out. I can't control what those idiots in government do, and I'm sick of trying," Harry responded tiredly. Hermione sighed and wrapped an arm around him.

"I know, Harry. I'm sorry. I just don't like the idea of her presiding over any trials, let along the Death Eater ones. How can we be sure justice is done if the people responsible for justice are just as guilty as the ones being tried?" She asked.

"Isn't all this for show anyway? Who is going to believe that Lucius Malfoy was innocent? Or that Rastaban LeStrange deserves a second/third chance?" Harry replied.

"Sure," Hermione conceded, "But everyone deserves the presumption of innocence," though her principles sounded dull even to her ears. She'd seen both men commit crimes before her very eyes. Still, if society was to progress it could only do so if trials were fair and the accused were granted rights to due process.

"I wouldn't lose sleep about the rights of Death Eaters, Hermione. I get where you are coming from, but these people aren't worth the fight," Harry pointed out.

"Yeah…" Hermione replied uneasily. "But not all of them are so obviously guilty. Mrs. Malfoy and Draco seem more like unwilling accomplices than Dark to the core criminals. There are plenty of other family members of Death Eaters that could become collateral damage."

"Always a bleeding heart," Harry chuckled to himself. "I think Narcissa will get off. I owe her a life debt, and I intend to repay it at her trial and then forget I ever knew any of them."

Hermione smiled at that, "Yeah, but I worry about Draco…"

"God only knows why," Harry scoffed.

Hermione huffed in frustration. "You've seen the _Prophet_. They want to treat him as if he was the mastermind behind Dumbledore's death. We all know that's not true. He tried to save us at Malfoy Manor. He might be a little shit, but he was never a Death Eater. Not really. And given the tone of this new Government, it doesn't seem like anyone is taking reason into consideration when assessing how to deal with lesser offenses within Voldemort's followers."

"Why do I feel like you are not going to let this go?" Harry asked.

Hermione just rolled her eyes at her best friend.


	2. Azkaban Prison

**Azkaban Prison**

 ** _Day 30_**

The first day Hermione marched into his detention room, hand on hip, he hated her. As per usual, Miss Perfect had it in her head that he was a project, and he had no use for any of it. The self-righteous bitch could feel superior on someone else's time, but she wasn't going to fulfill her do-gooder quota on him.

She hadn't said much. She came in, stared him down and asked if he was being treated okay. He grunted a response that seemed affirmation enough to satisfy her and she told him she'd make sure he had a fair trial. He rolled his eyes at that. Leave it to the Gryffindor Princess to believe she had some sort of power over true blue politicians who probably hated her guts anyway. He said nothing and eventually she left, a look of determination on her face.

* * *

 ** _Day 31_**

"I didn't know you had an ally in Hermione Granger," Draco's solicitor said, eyebrow raised in question.

"I don't," Draco said, flatly.

"According to the impassioned speech I was given last night in my personal office, I'd say you are wrong," the other man replied.

Draco's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "What did she say?" he couldn't help but ask.

"She wanted to know what case we were making and how to get into contact with whoever would be representing the Ministry for trial. She demanded all the files I have on you and your parents and when I refused she became highly agitated." Draco's jaw was on the floor. "At first I assumed she wanted to threaten me for representing you, but it seems quite the opposite. She wanted to insure I'm competent. I would have found it insulting, but I assume the two of you have some sort of…relationship."

"We most certainly do not," Draco huffed with indignation. The very idea that he could be in any sort of _relationship_ with the Mudblood was preposterous. Ugh. It gave him chills just considering it. Shaking his head, he turned to Goodwin Keddle, the exceptional Pureblooded lawyer his father had hired to specifically work on his case, and declared that he not tell Hermione Granger one damn thing about his case or he'd be fired. Keddle swallowed hard but agreed.

"She isn't a bad ally to have, you know," the older man pointed out.

"Sure. Except if she does help, she'll expect me to lick her dragon-skin boots until the day I die. I'd rather go to Azkaban," Draco insisted.

"If you say so," Goodwin said skeptically.

* * *

 ** _Day 42_**

"Have you ever considered, Hermione, that he might not _want_ your help?" Ron countered, once he could get in a word between his girlfriend's ranting. They _had_ in fact, finally decided that they were 'dating' or that was what they were calling it. But between the Hogwarts rebuild, keeping George's shop open, and the insanity at the Ministry, they rarely saw each other.

"Of course, he doesn't want it. He has more Pride than any imbecile i've ever met," Hermione bit out.

"Well, so he doesn't want your help. Let it go," Ron said with a shrug. He, personally, had no idea why Hermione gave one single fuck what happened to Draco Malfoy. Maybe a few years in Azkaban would do him some good.

"You just don't get it, Ron. It's not really about Draco. It's about Justice!" she cried, and she already knew she was talking to a brick wall, but no one else listened either. "This is exactly how genocide starts! Sure, full blown Death Eaters are bad. They killed people. They did so willingly and enthusiastically. But what about people who were just associated with them? What about people who just happen to be born into their families? We just let them be carted off to Prison too? Get rid of all of them, guilty or not?"

"I think you are romanticizing Malfoy quite a bit, love. He _was_ a Death Eater. He did join voluntarily. He let in Death Eaters to a school full of children and nearly killed Dumbledore. It's not like he's innocent," Ron countered.

"And what choices did he have? He was brainwashed. Hell, he might still be brainwashed, Ron, but he never had a choice. Still, he's never killed anyone. He isn't outside of redemption. He made terrible choices when he was offered very little in the way of alternative. That doesn't make him evil. And it isn't fair that he, or anyone else like him, is being scapegoated to cover up the sins of the Ministry!" Hermione argued.

"I don't disagree with you, per say," Ron conceded. "But we cannot fix what's broken with the Ministry. All we can do is try to move on. They are just Death Eaters and Death Eater families. It's not like they can change."

Hermione huffed in frustration. The problem was, most of the population agreed with Ron. They were just Death Eaters. Who cared if they got proper legal due process. Better safe than sorry.

* * *

 ** _Day 60_**

He should have seen it coming. The _Daily Prophet_ had been hinting at it for weeks. But when Two burly Aurors hoisted him up by the armpits and practically carried him out of the room that had been his home for two months, he was gobsmacked.

"Where am I being taken?" he demanded, which as much authority as one could while being carried like a baby by two men twice his size.

"Azkaban," one grunted.

Draco's heart raced and he felt like he might puke. No one was supposed to be incarcerated in Azkaban unless they were convicted. The law stated that the charged would be remanded in Ministry detention until trial. He had no idea what was going on, but something was terribly wrong. What if they simply decided he didn't get a trial? That was illegal, but he worried there wasn't much to stop the current Ministry from doing whatever it wished in the name of sweet sweet vengeance. He was a Death Eater after all.

If there was no trial, did that mean he'd never be free too? At that thought he did retch and puke all over the shoes of the guard on his left. He could tell the man was not amused.

* * *

"Kingsley!" Hermione cried, but the man she'd considered a friend dodged her as he swiftly made way for the employees only lift. "Kingsley!" she shouted again holding up the _Daily Prophet_ in her hands. "Ahhh!" she grunted in frustration kicking the side of the lift as the doors closed on her. She was steaming mad and, at the moment, her ire was directed at her old friend who neglected to inform her of what was coming in regard to the treatment of Death Eaters and families of Death Eaters by dictatorial decree of the newly formed Wizengamot.

She looked down at the paper again, almost unable to believe her eyes.

 ** _Wizengamot Reforms Lenient Laws to Insure Safety of Wizarding Britain_**

 ** _Last night, the new fully formed and vetted Wizengamot met in emergency meeting to deal with what has been labeled the 'Death Eater Problem'. As previously reported, there are an estimated 100 Death Eaters in Ministry Custody and as many as 50 at large. That does not even include family members of Death Eaters who are likely be harboring the same violent and racist tendencies._**

 ** _In an effort to cut costs and show respect to the dead and the justice they deserve, the Wizengamot passed a motion that would:_**

 ** _1\. Allow the Auror Department to detain potential Dark Wizards indefinitely. This will cut the bureaucratic red-tape required to bring criminals to justice as well as keeping society safe as the Ministry builds its case._**

 ** _2\. All persons of immediate blood relation to known Death Eaters must register with the ministry and put a trace on their wand. These persons will not be allowed to travel outside of the country without special documentation and proof of intent to return._**

 ** _3\. Pureblood students at any of the accredited schools within Wizarding Britain will be required to enroll in Muggle Studies and will participate in at least one organized field trip into the Muggle world._**

 ** _4\. No Purebloods may immigrate into Wizarding Britain without first being vetted by the newly formed Department of Tolerance and Understanding. For security purposes, there will be a limited number of visas for Purebloods from other countries._**

 ** _The_** **Prophet** ** _has been assured that safety and security is of paramount importance to this new Wizengamot, and they will continue to work to maintaining the Peace and prevent the tragic events that resulted from letting Pureblood Terrorism go unchecked in the name of Political Correctness._**

Hermione was ready to spit nails. She could not believe anyone, let alone one-hundred and fifty seasoned politicians could be this stupid. They had, essentially, undone every single liberal legal reform that anyone had ever fought for in the history of Wizarding Britain, overnight. Now, being Pureblood made you as suspicious in the eyes of the Ministry as being a Muggle-born had only two months ago. It was astounding how they could get away with this with any kind of credibility at all.

The Ministry just never seemed to be able to get anything right. They fucked up every single thing they touched. Forget the fact that this was essentially taking a supposed privileged class and trying to punish them as a whole, regardless of their own personal accountability, this went to the very core of criminal justice. People not even guilty of violent crimes were being locked in the hell hole known as Azkaban indefinitely. What that place could do to your soul…Hermione shuddered. She could still hear Sirius' screams in the night as he slept through nightmares.

More than that, simply the bad luck of being born into a family that was considered 'Dark' made you a second class citizen! It was a gross injustice, and Hermione and to admit she hasn't seen it coming. She knew the Wizengamot would deflect criticism of the Ministry into 'vengence' trials, but she had hoped that they would at least maintain the rule of law and the common sense judicial reforms Wizarding Britain had enjoyed for over a century - barring the martial law that prevailed during the Wars with Voldemort. And on top of even _that,_ now being Pureblood made you suspicious all on it's own. Forget that the fucking _Weasleys_ were Pureblood and never had a Muggle-born met as strong an ally as that whole family, but _many_ of the people who fought valiantly against Voldemort and his Death Eaters were Purebloods. Those men and women certainly did more to end the war than Ministry officials who were busy holding pointless and illegal tribunals against Muggle-borns!

Her felt her throat closing up with rage. She wanted to kick or punch something. The Wizarding world was at a crossroads and it looks like it was going to be lost in a sea of paranoia, fear, and political pandering.

She'd been working with a number of Death Eaters' kids and extended family since she decided to take on the project of insuring they all had safe trials. Malfoy, of course, was not cooperative, but there were other former Slytherins who knew that an alliance with Hermione could only help them and allowed her access to their files. She wondered if they'd been carted off to Azkaban or let go. She'd need to find out just exactly who'd been incarcerated and start from there. She could scream at Kingsley another time.

* * *

 ** _Day 62_**

He was cold, hungry, tired, and that wasn't even the worst of it. Azkaban was worse than his most detailed nightmares. Vaguely, he'd wondered what the prison was like when his father was incarcerated there those long months during his Sixth Year, but the older man would never discuss it. He assumed it was no picnic since his father came back much less enthusiastic about the Dark Lord's plans and much more withdrawn.

However, he could not imagine this. The Dementors, who for some reason still were allowed to guard the prison, though they had joined Voldemort in the final battle, were so much worse than words could describe. As they passed his tiny cell, he'd go ice cold and visions would overwhelm him.

It wasn't as if Draco's life had been sunshine and roses. People might have thought it was. Sure, he was rich. Sure, he was Pureblood. But he lived in a strict home with a strict code, and that often led to harsh punishments and certainly meant he was not coddled. Still, his mother had always been loving, but the Dementors took that from him. The only thing he remembered when they were around was his father's harsh tongue, constant criticisms, and occasional corporal punishment.

Then there was Snape. Professor Snape, for all is faults, was a guidepost for Draco. The man even killed Dumbledore for him - though he'd come to learn it was all part of maintaining his cover as a spy. Still, he owed Snape everything. Snape had saved his life countless times, and saved his soul that night in the Astronomy Tower. The despair he felt at knowing he'd never see his Potions Master again felt like a new gash of pain every time the Dementors forced his mind to remember that the man was dead and he was never coming back.

Dumbledore's death played over and over in his mind, and, of course, those horrible hours when his Aunt Bella tortured Hermione Granger on his Drawing Room floor. Her screams echoed in his head until he wished he could die to escape them.

He couldn't eat. They brought slop to his door once a day, but he couldn't shovel it down. Not with the Dementors constantly floating by and removing his will to live. The tattered sheet he got as a blanket did nothing to fight the bitter cold that had settled into his bones and he really wanted to die. It had only been two days. He was never going to make it.

* * *

 _ **Day 63**_

"I don't really mind having to go through the paperwork if it means we are safer…" Ginny said, uncertainly.

"One, we won't be safer. Two, whether you mind it or not, it's still wrong," Hermione said.

"But maybe Voldemort came to power because not enough people were paying attention to what Purebloods were doing and saying," Ginny countered.

"And maybe treating Purebloods like second class citizens would have driven even _more_ people to Voldemort's ranks," Hermione replied.

"Touche," Ginny said. "I just want this to be over." Her voice sounded tired. "I'm sick of being afraid all the time. I'm sick of worrying about what's behind every corner."

Hermione smiled sadly and hugged her friend close. "The best way to stop being afraid is to just stop being afraid. The world is safer now. The real threat is the Ministry. Voldemort is gone. His followers are mostly captured. You are more likely to die in a broom accident than from a Death Eater today."

Ginny smiled at that, "You and your anti-broom fear mongering."

Hermione chuckled. "You people are psychotic for riding those things willingly."

* * *

 ** _Day 65_**

Hermione bit back tears as she left Azkaban. It took five days but she was finally able to negotiate visitations for prisoners without the Demeanors present. She'd never been to the prison before, but it was so much worse than she imagined.

There was no level of hygiene upheld. Prisoners were given nothing more than a hose shower once a week, and that was not the worst of it. She'd seen Theo Nott Jr. and Pansy Parkinson while she was there. The former had technically joined the Death Eaters upon his graduation from Hogwarts but he was no more 'Dark' a Wizard than anyone else. He was born into the group, his father insisting he join. That was enough to seal his fate. Pansy, not a technical Death Eater, has been incarcerated for treason for her suggesting that the school turn Harry over to Voldemort to save themselves. Hermione shook her head. A scared 17 year old girl was now indefinitely locked in prison for suggesting a boy she didn't like might need to be sacrificed to save herself. It was insanity.

Neither prisoner looked well. Both were haggard, thinner, and clearly disturbed. It hadn't even been a week. She had no idea how they would manage for the months it might take to reverse the Ministry's illegal act of imprisonment. In the back of her mind she wondered about Malfoy. Pansy and Theo said they hadn't seen him but had heard he was there. Apparently prisoners were not allowed to interact. On top of everything, they were all alone. After figuring out how to overturn the law, she was going to fight for prison reform. This was inhumane.

At the moment, the captured Death Eaters had all been transferred to Azkaban along with a few choice Slytherin, like Pansy, who has been turned over by community members. Hermione was still trying to figure out who'd turned over Pansy. It made for about 120 new inmates, most of which had never experienced Azkaban's horrors before and all of which had not stood proper trial. When the Ministry used Azkaban to lock up the likes of Lucius Malfoy after the Department of Mysteries debacle, it made some sense. There was no way to insure that Voldemort didn't have enough people inside the Ministry to break prisoners free in seconds. Now, the Dark Lord was gone. There was no reason to avoid due process. This was injustice, and it would not stand.


	3. Tentative Truce

**A/N: Sorry it took a little longer than I'd hoped to get this chapter out, but here it is. Still unbeta'd so mistakes are mine. I will eventually try to have it beta'd but for now, i'm focusing on the plot. :) Enjoy.  
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* * *

 ****

 **Tentative Truce**

 ** _Day 71_**

Ice cold water pierced his skin and her let out an inelegant screech. _Bloody Hell!_ Did they really have to greet him that way on 'shower' day? And would a warming charm have killed them? Apparently, it would have because every time he got his rinsing, it was ice cold, high pressure, and miserable. It left his cell soggy for days. He learned after the first time to roll up his sleeping mat with anything he wanted to remain dry and tuck it into the corner to avoid sleeping with cold wet blankets. He thought he would freeze to death that first night. He shuddered just remembering it.

"Oi!" he cried out to the guard when he finished hosing him down. "When can I see my mother?" he panted. He'd learned from day one that he'd have to pick his battles and for the last several days the battled he'd chosen was the right to see his mother. He had to know she was okay and that she was not in the same state he - and likely his father - was in.

She was a fragile woman. She always had been. Iron willed, but her body was frail, and he mind sometimes weak.

"What makes you think you get special treatment?" the guard slurred. He sounded drunk. "Death Eaters don't get to make demands."

"Fuck," Draco muttered under his breath. He had to think of something. "I do still have the right to get messages out," he pointed out between shivering.

"Not to other inmates," The guard smirked.

"I'm not writing to another inmate," Draco bit out between clenched teeth.

"Do what you want," the guard shrugged. "Messages aren't picked up until Friday." It was Tuesday. Draco swore.

"Fine," he muttered under his breath hobbling over to his bed pad where he'd hidden his ragged clothes inside. He absolutely _hated_ thinking about contacting her, but his attorney was only allowed for visitation every two weeks and he wasn't approved for visitation for his mother. He had to get someone with enough political pull to see prisoners whenever she pleased. Begrudgingly he admitted there was only one person who fit that bill that he knew of. He'd rather eat glass than call on her, but he hadn't been given much choice.

* * *

 ** _Day 76_**

 _Granger,_

 _As much as I loathe to ask you for a favor that you will undoubtedly never deem repaid, circumstances have obviously changed and I would greatly appreciate your help._

 _Since I've been incarcerated in this festering pit, I've not been allowed to see my mother or father. My father, I feel confident can manage. He has, after all, been here before. My mother, on the other hand, is extremely fragile. I worry for her safety. I'm sure you don't care, but she suffers from fainting spells, headaches, and can tend toward starvation when she is highly stressed._

 _Given that Potter has probably explained the events surrounding his deception to the Dark Lord, I'm sure you understand that she does not belong in Azkaban, nor do I think she can survive it. If you have any decency, you will go to her and make sure she is okay. I fear that no one in this Ministry cares if she rots in here, untried._

 _I would ask you only to meet with me one time to relay her condition and then we need never talk again. If it is too much of a burden, I understand._

D. Malfoy

Her head was spinning. Things had to have been terrible for Malfoy to reach out to her. She hated to think how desperate he must have felt to send such a personal letter. She was also deeply worried about Mrs. Malfoy. Harry had an interest in helping her, but the Ministry was being utterly unreasonable about nearly everything. He'd started the process of getting her trial fast tracked but it could still be months before anything was decided. It sounded like months in Azkaban without her husband and son might be fatal for her.

Of course, there was no question she'd go to Azkaban, in fact, she was remiss in having not thought of it before. She didn't have to like Malfoy to be upset about injustice, and what was happening to all of them was unjust - even Lucius who certainly deserved to return to Azkaban after a fair trial.

Getting onto visitor lists was tricky, but in some ways being the heroine of the Wizarding World had it's perks. After keeping the goings-on in the Wizengamot from her, Kingsley owed her and he knew it. He would get her in and out to see any inmates she pleased any time she pleased. She jotted off a note to him, explaining she would need to see Narcissi and Draco Malfoy as soon as possible the next day.

After sending Athena off to deliver the message, she Floo-called Harry, who came over immediately when he realized it was about the object of his life debt. He liked to claim that the obligation was the only reason he'd invested so much time into Mrs. Malfoy's case, but Hermione knew better. Harry was sick of badness and corruption. If he could ease it, just a little, he thought he might feel like his job was done. Hermione knew better. She and Harry were cut from the same cloth. Their jobs would never seem 'done' unless Wizarding Britain was functioning under a free and legal democracy that protected the rights of its citizens. Harry might not know what was exactly what he wanted, but it was.

Ron and Ginny just didn't get it. They could try to leave the war behind and move on with an attitude that having nothing to hide, they should have nothing to fear from the new government, but history showed, such a mentality was shortsighted.

Hermione handed Harry Draco's letter and he scanned it, lips turning down into a frown with each sentence. "What can I do about it?" he asked.

"For now, just what you are doing. Petition the Wizengamot. Do interviews with the media. Get the message out there. When I figure out what the situation is exactly, we can work on getting her out of that place and to a proper trial. She isn't even a Death Eater. It makes no sense that they are treating her as one legally," Hermione huffed.

"And Malfoy?" Harry asked, already knowing Hermione was not going to end her crusade with Narcissa.

"Stubborn arse," she muttered. "I'll deliver my report about his mother and try to get a feel for what is going on with him. After I do him a favor, I can't imagine he'll be difficult," she reasoned. Harry snorted at that. Of course, Harry was right. Draco Malfoy probably didn't know how to be anything _but_ difficult, but Hermione was determined to use this opening and she wasn't going to let his silly pride stand in the way of her need to save him from an unfair plight. The way things were going, without a lot of political capital, none of the people who'd been sent to Azkaban would ever see trial. All in the name of 'public safety', you know.

* * *

 ** _Day 77_**

She was skeletal and wheezing when she entered the visitation room. It took all her mental power to refrain from gasping in horror when she laid eyes on the once regal Madam Malfoy who now looked two steps away from death.

"Have you even tried to make her eat?" she hissed at the guard who remained in the room.

"What difference does it make?" he said with a nonchalant shrug, and Hermione saw red.

Pursing her lips she moved her chair closer to the older woman. "Mrs. Malfoy," she said quietly. "It's Hermione Granger. I came here at the request of Draco." Her voice was calm and soothing but there was a slight tremble, she wasn't sure if it was anger or disgust looking at Narcissa Malfoy dirty and disheveled shivering in a metal chair. No. It was anger. Definitely anger.

At the mention of Draco, however, Narcissa looked up at Hermione with wild eyes. "D-Draco?"

"Yes," Hermione said excitedly. "Yes, Draco is fine, and I am going to do everything I can to help the two of you out of here," she promised. "Harry, too. He knows he owes you a life debt. You have to hold on long enough for him to fulfill it." Her voice was soft but earnest and she hoped she was getting through to the woman.

* * *

Draco was unceremoniously roused from his light nap by clanging against the metal bars of his cell. "Up, Malfoy," the faceless guard growled.

He shot up quickly. He'd not left the cell since he arrived. Everything had been brought to him up to that point and he was starting to think he'd never leave the room for the rest of his life. "What's going on?"

"You have a visitor," the guard grunted.

"B-But i'm not allowed visitors," he said, confused.

"This one's special," the guard said, but he rolled his eyes indicating if it had been up to him, no one would be granted permission to speak to a hardened criminal like Draco Malfoy.

 _Who could it be?_ Draco wracked his brain. _Granger?_ But he'd heard nothing from her since he sent is note off days ago and assumed she'd just chosen to ignore him. However, there was no other conclusion he could draw for an unknown visitor when it wasn't a day his lawyer was allowed to see him.

He was roughly pulled down the hall past the usual cells but he barely could make out anyone in them. He'd searched them his first trip to the 'visitation room' for his mother and father, but they weren't there. He'd no idea where the other Malfoys were kept but it was apparent they'd all been separated within the prison.

"In," the guard grunted again pushing him through the door. Unsurprisingly, he saw Hermione Granger, nervously sitting at the wooden table provided in all visitation rooms. She was biting her lip and scratching at a loose flake of varnish on the tabletop, her eyes unreadable as she looked at him.

The guard closed the door behind them and took his place next to it, watching that he didn't attack Granger or she didn't try to escape with him. He rolled his eyes at the thought. As if anyone could get off Azkaban Island without being detected.

Draco shuffled over to the table and inelegantly dropped into the seat, too tired to bother with all the years of breeding that would demand he be regal at all times. Regal was dead and gone. Bury it, because he had no delusions he'd ever be in a position to feel powerful over anyone ever again.

"Granger," he said simply, this voice a low growl from lack of use.

"Malfoy," she replied but her could hear a quiver in her voice. Merlin, he hoped she didn't weep or something embarrassing.

"Have you seen my mother?" he asked, trying to cut to the point. He hated her pity, but he couldn't stop the swell of something that rose up in him when he realized the girl he'd tortured cared enough to do this favor for him, no questions asked. Damn her, but she _did_ care. She _was_ good. Then again, it was easy to be good when you were on the right side.

He pushed the thoughts aside and waited for her to answer.

"I've seen her," she said, and he could tell she was calculating her answer. Not a good sign.

"Just tell me like it is, Granger," he said through gritted teeth. If his mother was dead or dying he was going to lose his mind. She was the only thing he had to hold onto.

"She's not well," Hermione finally answered swallowing hard. Draco looked horrible. Better than Narcissa, but barely. "I don't think she can live here…" she began, but Draco cut her off.

"You think _anyone_ can?" he spat.

"No, of course not," Hermione said, frowning. She hated how he looked at her like the enemy. She was trying to help! But, she also knew that reason wasn't likely anything she could expect out of someone who had been tormented by Dementors for the last several weeks. Besides, bias and prejudices die hard. Draco has been raised on them from birth. He likely couldn't rehabilitate his world view.

"She's not eating, as you warned me. She's not responsive, at least not as she should be. She cries for you and for your father. She can't stay here," Hermione summed up. She'd sent several owls to several people between her visit with Narcissa and Draco, and she had made this her priority. Narcissa needed to be in St. Mungos immediately.

"And where exactly is she going to go?" Draco snapped, frustrated with his inability to do anything to help the only person in the world he cared about. "It's not exactly like you can check out of Azkaban. Or has it escaped your notice that merely being related to Death Eaters makes you one, and such an accusation means you no longer have any rights."

"You are right, Malfoy," Hermione said sadly. "This is not right. But you forget that Harry Potter owes your mother a life debt and he plans to repay it."

That made Draco perk up. "Potter's helping my mother?" he asked.

"Yes," Hermione said, simply.

"Then why isn't she out yet?" Draco questioned.

"Harry's influence is vast with the people, but the government is less excited to take orders from an eighteen-year-old, I'm sure you understand," Hermione felt immediate relief at getting back to some usual conversation with Malfoy again.

Draco sighed in frustration. "If Potter can't get her out, then no one can," he said, defeated.

"I didn't say he couldn't. It just means it takes more time. I can assure you that, no matter what, Narcissa will not spend another fortnight in this prison," Hermione answered with conviction. Draco eyed her for a long time, trying to figure out what, exactly, was in it for her. This campaign she was on had to have been eating up her whole life. DIdn't she have anything better to do? Why waste so much energy on people who hate her anyway.

"What's it to you?" He finally asked, unkindly. "Don't you have a Weasley to inappropriately fondle in public? You just need a new charity case? I can assure you none of us in here want to be made you new cause. I'm not a bloody house elf, and you are nothing but a Mudblood, no matter how many accolades the Ministry gives you."

He watched as she flinched, but she tried very hard to look as if his words didn't cut her deeply. The pain in her eyes as well as the fidgeting with the edge of her left sleeve gave her away though. He knew very well his aunt had carved the word 'mudblood' into her on his Drawing Room floor, and he felt almost sick at having brought her mind back to that torture. Still, he wouldn't want her getting ideas that he trusted her, or cared what she should of him.

She swallowed again, reminding herself that she _knew_ Draco would lash out. She knew he could not stand to be in her debt and especially not Harry's. But she pushed through. She didn't have to personally like Malfoy to help him, and the others, get justice. "I'm not here to be your friend, Malfoy," she finally said, her voice sounding stronger than she felt at that moment.

"Face it, you need me. You are not getting out of here without help and I am the only one willing to put the effort in to help you. So, call me any name you like, but i'm not going anywhere. Now, you can be difficult, hide away in your cell, refuse my visits, and make all of this harder, or you can grow up, join us in 1998 and let me help you. I promise I will not expect you to fall at my feet in loving adoration. Just, after everything, stop making this more difficult than it needs to be," she appealed.

He thought for a long minute. The girl had guts, he'd give her that. And, in reality, the stint in Azkaban had knocked his pride down several notches. Four months ago, he'd never lower himself to getting help from any mudblood, let alone her. However, today, in this moment, he was too tired to spar. And she was right, no one else gave one single fuck what happened to him or his mother.

"Deal, Granger. But don't expect me to like it," he finally said.

She smirked at that, "Of course not, Malfoy. And likewise."


	4. A Roommate

**A Roommate**

 ** _Day 80_**

"Hermione, how long is this going to go on?" Ron asked impatiently as she poured over another legal book jotting down notes on a yellow legal pad with a muggle pen. She'd always preferred them. Quills had style, but they were a right pain in the arse to take notes with.

"What do you mean?" she asked absently.

"This!" Ron nearly shrieked, gesticulating wildly at the mess of books and papers that had taken over her once pristine reading nook in her bedroom at Grimmauld Place. "You've been at this for weeks, getting more frantic by the day. I never see you. We live in the same bloody house and I see you once a week - if I'm lucky. Are we dating or not?"

"Ron, I'm just very busy right now. I have to find a way to get Mrs. Malfoy transferred to St. Mungos, and then I have to petition the Wizengamot for…" she began to explain but Ron just sighed.

"What you are saying is," Ron began, "that the woman who watched you be tortured on her drawing room floor takes priority over us. You've yet to come by the Burrow no matter how often my grieving mother asks, but you've been to that _prison_ a dozen times in three weeks. I get that you have causes, but this is barmy, Hermione. They are _Death Eaters_. Fine, Malfoy's mom wasn't technically a Death Eater, but she certainly would have had no problem watching you die at her feet. They are not worth it! And you'd rather spend time trying to set racist arseholes free than touch me, or kiss me, or even - Merlin forbid - pay your respects to my family for Fred's death!"

He was shouting by the end and Hermione clinched her fists to keep from slapping him across the face. _How dare he?!_ As if she wasn't devastated by the loss of her friend. As if sitting around the Burrow listening to Molly weep was going to make one damn thing any better. She'd tried to be there for the whole lot of Weasleys but she didn't have the first clue what to do. So, she stuck to what she was good at. Making sure that Wizarding Britain didn't fall into a deep hole of injustice and suspicion.

Ron was out of line. She knew she'd been ignoring him, but to imply that she didn't care. "If that's what you think," she said as calmly as she could manage, he voice wavering, "then perhaps you should go."

Ron sighed tiredly, the wind leaving his sails as he saw how hurt she was. "This isn't working, is it?" he finally said.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, having a feeling she knew what was coming, and she couldn't help but feel a little relieved.

"This," Ron clarified. "Us. It's not right. We fight more than we kiss. I love you, Hermione, but I don't have the same passion for social justice you do. I want to help George run the shop, settle down, start a family. I want to live the life i fought for. I'm done. I don't have any more fights in me." He did sound tired and Hermione could understand that. She unclenched her fists and took his hand.

"I understand, Ron. I do," she admitted. The idea of just giving up had crossed her mind. She was tired too. She didn't want to fight her whole life. But she just couldn't. One injustice always snowballed into another. Giving up now would make for a much harder and imperative fight later. "I just can't give up," she said.

"I know," Ron replied sadly. "I know. And I _do_ understand. Even if I could care less about the Malfoys or Pansy Parkinson, I know you and Harry both just have something within you that can't back down from a fight. I get it. But I can't do it, Hermione. I need someone who is there for me first. It might sound selfish but…"

"No!" Hermione quickly stopped him from going down that light of thought. "It's not selfish. You do deserve someone who can give you her undivided attention. That is what a relationship is supposed to look like," she admitted. "I just can't do that."

There was a long silence between then before Hermione finally said, "I think you are right. I think maybe we both wanted this because we'd wanted it for so long as kids. But, we aren't right of each other - romantically. If we push too hard, we might lose our friendship and I would be devastated if I lost you."

Ron wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "You aren't going to lose me. Just, please, come to the Burrow once in a while. My mum misses you and I think she needs to see you getting on okay."

"Sure, Ron," Hermione smiled. "Are we okay?"

"We're okay," Ron assured her.

* * *

 ** _Day 81_**

While Harry was doing an interview with _The Quibbler_ of all sources, Hermione decided it was time for a long talk with Kingsley who was, to date, the only actual Order member in the Wizengamot. With Tonks' death and Arthur Weasley's indefinite hiatus following Fred's death, there were very few Order Members who had any ties at all with the Ministry. The ones who did were mostly pushed out by the opportunistic. Kingsley, however, was pretty well liked around the Ministry and was the establishment's 'token' Order member. As much as she felt bad for him being placed in the middle, she needed him to grow a backbone and do something.

"Hermione, I understand where you are coming from. I truly do. You don't think _I_ voted for that ridiculous anti-pureblood measure. But I'm one of very few voices of reason in there. Half of the Wizengamot should be tried for crimes against Muggle-borns as it is. Most of the other half is scared shitless, to be frank." Kingsley looked tired and Hermione wished he didn't have so much stress on his shoulders.

"But this is injustice. There is an unwritten Constitution in place that should not allow for this," she reasoned.

"And who will stop them? Unfortunately, in this political structure the Wizengamot has all the power. The Minister of Magic could possibly sway them, but until elections the one we have is nearly useless." He was right there. Florian Pinset _was_ useless. He was as useless as any leader could be. He only happened to make it into that position by being the only non-Death Eater in the higher circle of the Administration at the time Voldemort was killed. No other action qualified him, and he only made it to _that_ position by having already served under Scrimgeour but not being a big enough threat to the Death Eaters to boot him out or kill him when they took over. He had control over nothing.

"Look, I'm not suggesting this can be figured out overnight," Hermione said rationally. "However, the most immediate problem is the deathly ill within Azkaban. Even convicted felons have the right to medical care, and most of these people have been convicted of nothing. Harry and I are not above using the media to create a firestorm," she admitted.

"Hermione, you know as well as I that the public, while they love Harry, hate the Death Eaters. You'll find very little sympathy for Narcissa Malfoy in the mass populous," Kingsley reasoned.

Inwardly sighing, she reasoned that he was right. However, she had a few ideas that would make the public question the sanity of this sort of government overreach. She just wasn't sure how to carry them out. Still, this was a pressing matter and needed to be dealt with as soon as possible.

"I'm asking for this, right now," she countered, ignoring his very valid point. "Narcissa Malfoy needs supervision. If she's not going to get it from the guards of Azkaban then I have a temporary solution."

"This is probably going to cause me a headache, isn't it?" Kingsley groaned but motioned for her to continue. She couldn't help but smirk. As frustrated with Kingsley as she was, she _did_ know he at least agreed with her and would help where he could.

"One, Draco Malfoy should be moved into a cell with his mother. That way they can lean on each other and he can keep an eye on her. Having him there would have the added benefit of contributing to her mental stability," Hermione knew it could still be several weeks before Kings was able to push through the transfer to St. Mungos and Mrs. Malfoy did not have that long.

"And two," she continued, "a healer needs to come and check on _all_ inmates. Those with medical concerns must have access to a legitimate healer once a week. That is a basic right."

"How do you expect to get anyone to contribute tax money to _that?_ " Kingsley asked.

"I don't," Hermione said. "I've sold my parents house, and I'm allocating the funds to this particular project," she explained. She ignored the pang in her chest that swelled every time she thought of her parents. At this rate, she'd never get to Australia to locate them and attempt to restore their memories.

Kingsley stared back at her in shock. It was a rather forward thing to do, but if she didn't have to ask for Ministry money, then it was a lot more likely that it would happen. He internally thanked her for making his job infinitely easier.

"If you have the money to pay for it, I can possibly get these things done by the end of the week," Kingsley admitted. "But i certainly do not see how you are going to get any of the rest of the reforms you want. The Wizengamot is not interested in hearing from the Order about anything."

"I know," Hermione said. "We'll just have to make them interested."

* * *

 ** _Day 83_**

 ** _The Chosen One Speaks Out About Dangerous New Laws_**

 ** _Harry Potter, Savior of Wizarding Britain, has a new battle to fight. Following the fall of Voldemort in May, society has struggled to find a way to put itself back together. In sweeping legislation a month back, the Wizengamot choose suspicion and Draconian Laws against Purebloods and relatives of Death Eaters to heal. Potter believes this was exactly the wrong measure._**

 ** _Luna Lovegood: So, what do you think of the new legislation regarding Purebloods and Death Eaters?_**

 _ **Harry Potter: It's abysmal. We fought for equality for Muggle-borns. We fought for an end to this 'us vs. them' mentality that led to someone like Voldemort gaining power. We've replaced one kind of discrimination with another. It will not end well.**_

 ** _LL: Don't you think Purebloods are more prone to racist ideology?_**

 ** _HP: No. For a while Purebloods held power, so their opinions about blood superiority were catastrophic to society. That does not, however, mean that they are the only people who are capable of prejudice. We are all imperfect. But my best mate, Ron Weasley, is Pureblood and he wouldn't dare discriminate against anyone. On the other hand, Voldemort himself was a half-blood, and he's not the only non-Pureblood with these kinds of ideas. You know nothing about someone based on their blood alone. You would think we'd have figured that out after the Ministry spent the last year-and-a-half trying to eliminate muggle-born witches and wizards from our society._**

 ** _LL: That brings us to another topic. How does it feel to know that some of the same witches and wizards who served the Ministry while it was run by Voldemort have kept their places of power?_**

 ** _HP: I suppose it's typical. They have the power. So, when they do wrong, they can deflect and make excuses and never take responsibility for it. Odd that Dolores Umbridge, who gleefully stole wands and possessions from muggle-borns, is now sitting on the Wizengamot, making legislation and judgements about the very people she was serving only months ago. And she's not the only one, though she might possibly be the most vile representation. In a just society, she would be sitting in Azkaban, not the dozens of free citizens who've been locked away with no trial._**

 ** _LL: Yes, could to talk more about that. It seems like the Ministry has no urgency in getting these Death Eaters and collaborators to trial. Why do you think that is?_**

 _ **HP: I don't really know. Perhaps they don't think they have enough evidence on all of them. Perhaps they want them to just go away and Azkaban is a convenient spot to put them. Either way, without a trial, none of these people deserve to be in prison. Is Evan Rosier or Lucius Malfoy guilty? Of course. I can say that. I've seen them commit high crimes. But Narcissa Malfoy saved my life. And she's rotting in prison on death's door because a few politicians with blood on their own hands would rather not deal with the inconvenience of due process.**_

 ** _LL: Is Mrs. Malfoy being denied medical care?_**

 ** _HP: Yes. They all are. Azkaban is without any common human rights standards. The people sitting in there, make no mistake, are being tortured daily. Perhaps, they are not physically tortured, but the mental torture of the Dementors cannot be overstated._**

 ** _LL: Why did you decide to take on this project. No one could fault you for retiring somewhere far away. You have, after all, done your part and then some for our society._**

 _ **HP: I owe Narcissa Malfoy my life. I will see to it she gets justice. But more than that, I didn't sacrifice everything - lose Fred, Tonks, Remus…so many people - just to have the Ministry try their hand at their own brand of megalomania. If we don't learn lessons of history now, we will never learn them. And there will be another Voldemort on the horizon. I'm sick of fighting Voldemorts.**_

"Harry, i could kiss you," Hermione beamed. "This is brilliant. You do _not_ hold back!"

"Well, maybe it was a bit over the top…" Harry hedged, scratching his head shyly.

"No. It's bloody brilliant. I only wish it were published in a paper that more people read," she frowned. "No matter," she folded the paper and placed it on the table. "It's excellent and this is our message. No more Voldemorts. No creating them and no condoning them."

"Thanks, Hermione. I think Ginny is a bit put out," he admitted.

"Why?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

"She doesn't talk about it much, but I think that the year at Hogwarts without us - the one with the Carrows - well, I think she was deeply affected by it. Her hatred for Death Eaters and anyone they've come in contact with runs deep," Harry said. "She's not completely on board with this campaign of ours."

Hermione did figure as much. In the discussions she'd had with Ginny about it, the other girl had been withdrawn and even apologetic for the Ministry. She didn't know what happened to Ginny that year they were separated, but if she had been tortured, she could understand her lack of compassion for anyone even remotely associated with the Death Eaters. She just hoped it didn't affect things with Harry. They loved each other, and after some healing, she felt confident that Ginny would understand why this was all so important.

* * *

 ** _Day 86_**

When the guards came and demanded he 'get up', Draco assumed he was being taken to see Granger again. As much as he loathed the women, he had to admit a visiter, no matter who she was, would not be so bad. The loneliness was tangible in Azkaban, added to the despair that the Demontors filled him with every thirty minutes like clockwork, it was downright depressing. Even the bushy-haired know-it-all mudblood was preferable.

But he noticed quickly, as the guards practically dragged him down the hall by his shoulders, that he was not being led to one of the visitation rooms. He began to panic. What was happening? Had the Ministry suddenly decided they were a waste of resources and ordered mass Dementor's Kisses for everyone? His heart raced in his chest and he began to drag his feet.

"Where are you taking me?" he demanded, but the guards just held him tighter and kept going.

"Here we go," the one on his right said as they stopped short in front of a particular cell. "You've been moved. You've got a roommate." His tone indicated that the move was highly unorthodox. Draco couldn't believe it himself. A roommate? But he'd always been told Azkaban keeps prisoners in isolation for a reason.

Looking up, he tried to make out who his roommate was and why. It was dark, as it always was in Azkaban, but the moonlight hit a huddled heap near the back of the cell and his breath caught in his throat. He was sure his heart nearly stopped beating as he laid eyes on his mother. "Mother," he gasped. She didn't move.

"Well, get in, then," The guard grumbled practically throwing him in the cell and locking the door behind him. Without a word both guards shuffled away and Draco hurried over to his mother.

"Mother!' he cried, shaking her. He needed to see life in her or he would surely go insane.

"Draco?" her broken whisper came like a prayer on her lips, and he felt tears sting his eyes. She was alive. She looked horrible, but she was alive and he was going to insure she stayed that way.

"You're not real," she said sadly. "You're not here."

"I am here," he said, forcefully. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I swear to you, mother. I am here and I will take care of you." He made the vow in earnest and he knew he would do it. He had very little control over anything, but he would control this.

"My boy," she said absently, clinging to him. He held her tight in his arms as he rocked her back and forth. He silently thanked Hermione Granger, wherever she was, because he knew she had made this happen. _Damn meddling Gryffindor._


	5. The Dark Mark

**A/N: Okay, sorry for the delay, but to make up for it, i have a long chapter! YAY! Okay, so i was thinking of breaking this up into two chapters, but decided against it. I want to move the story forward and so, I didn't want there to be too much repetition of themes in chapters. Hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think**

* * *

 **The Dark Mark**

 ** _Day 87_**

"Mrs. Weasley, thank you for dinner," Hermione said with a weak smile.

"Any time, dear. No matter what happens between you kids, you are always welcome," Molly insisted warmly. Hermione felt relief fill her. She'd worried that Molly was only being so nice because she didn't know about the 'break up'.

"That means so much," Hermione admitted. "I'm sorry I have not been around."

"No worries," Molly said, with a wave of her hand as she began soaking the dishes. "You and Harry are cut from the same cloth. 'Saviors'." She smiled at Hermione conspiratorially. "Our family is grateful to have you both in our ranks."

Hermione blushed at that. "I'm glad to have you. With my parents…gone," she nearly choked on the word, "it is nice to feel as if I have a family."

"You do," Molly insisted earnestly. "Always. And I know it's hard for people to understand what you are doing. I don't pretend to be as open minded as you, but Arthur and I, we get it." She smiled warmly and Hermione couldn't help but give the rotund woman a hug of appreciation.

* * *

"Mother, please," Draco pleaded, as he tried to shove a spoonful of stew into her mouth. She was resisting.

"N-n-no," she stuttered, shaking her head.

"Mother, I'm begging you," Draco tired again, reaching the end of his patience. She didn't want to eat. She didn't want to move. She just held onto his wrist with both hands and occasionally shuddered as the Demontors floated by.

They were given two portions of food and he'd eaten half of his and was determined to get his mother, who looked skeletal, to eat not only her portion but the rest of his as well. So far he hadn't gotten a single bite past her lips.

"Mum," he said, moving closer and tilting her head back to look at her face. "Please. You have to eat. If you don't eat you are going to die. And if you die, I can't go on in here." His voice cracked with emotion, but he did see something cross her face that looked like anguish. "Eat it, please."

He watched her a moment longer before putting the spoon to her lips and hesitantly she opened her mouth slightly and let him feed her. He almost cried with relief.

* * *

 ** _Day 90_**

"Draco?" Draco's eyes snapped open and he crawled over to the mat his mother slept on.

"I'm here," he assured her. Often she would wake up, confused about where she was, wanting to know if he was really there.

"Azkaban?" she asked, and he nodded. She sighed and nodded in return. "How is your father?"

It was the most she'd said since he moved into her cell with her. "He's fine," Draco lied. Of course, he had no idea how Lucius was but he was not going to tell his recovering mother that.

"Can I see him?" she asked meekly.

"No, mum," he said softly. "Not right now. But maybe soon," he hedged. "Potter is trying to get you out of here," he explained.

"Harry Potter?" she asked in disbelief. "Why would Harry Potter…"

"He owes you a life debt," Draco pointed out. "He and his Mudblood friend Granger are working on getting you out."

"Please don't say that, Draco," Narcissa said tiredly.

"Say what?" Draco questioned.

"Mudblood. It's a vile word," she said. Draco looked at her like she had twelve heads. He'd heard muggle-borns called Mudbloods since he could remember.

Narcissa pursed her lips. "I know your father was fond of the word," she said, and Draco wasn't sure if he was more shocked that his mother's voice took on it's old tone of superiority or that she was blowing his mind with her revelation about her dislike for racial slurs. "Muggle-borns, of course, are inferior, but they are people and using language like that is classless. I think class has died in the age of the Dark Lord," she lamented.

"Oh mum," Draco nearly laughed. He couldn't believe this was the conversation they were having. Here, in this place, his mother had decided to give him a lesson in etiquette. It was actually sort of perfect. "Perhaps you are right. Granger is helping us out a great deal," he admitted.

He felt a little bit of a weight lifted off his shoulders as he felt life come back to his mother. Things were dismal, but at least she was there, alive, and trying.

* * *

 ** _Day 93_**

"How is your mother?" Hermione asked, after a long moment of silence. It was still awkward, these meetings, though Draco did agree to them voluntarily now.

"Better, thank you," he said politely but without offering any more details. Hermione bit her lip.

"No healers have come to check on either of you, yet?" she asked. She knew Kings was working on it, but everything took so bloody long with the Ministry.

"No," Draco said, his brows rising nearly to his hairline. "Am I supposed to be expecting them?"

Hermione nodded. "I've made a deal with the Ministry. Until inmates in need of medical care can be released to St. Mungos, healers should be coming to run basic tests and care. I had hoped that had already started."

"Well, my mother certainly could use a good healer," Draco admitted, "but you needn't bother sending one in for me. I'm perfectly fine, Granger."

"Yes. So fine that your hands shake when you pick up that glass of water," Hermione said casually as she pointed toward his shaking hands. He scowled and put the glass back down on the table.

"There is absolutely no reason to be ashamed," she said. "You've been in this prison, subject to Dementors and harsh conditions. You've been isolated until recently. You need a healer. Everyone in there does."

"I'm not a bloody House Elf," Draco snapped, but there was very little bite behind it. "I'll manage."

"Whatever you say, Malfoy," Hermione sighed. "I want to talk to you about how you became a Death Eater."

"Merlin, Granger! You don't ease into a topic, do you? Why in the world do you want to talk about _that?_ " He asked, shaking his head at her audacity.

"I need to know everything if I'm going to help you. I have no delusions that you are completely innocent. I don't believe you were held against your will, under imperious, and made to do Voldemort's bidding. But I also don't think you are a hardened Death Eater. I don't think you hate so much that you'd be willing to risk everything just to kill people based on their blood purity. And I certainly do not believe you willfully chose to be Dumbledore's murderer. You are too smart for that. So, I want to know how you became a Death Eater," she stated again.

Draco hated having to answer her questions. He felt indebted to her for what she'd done for his mother, and he hated _that_ too. He didn't want to talk to her about his past or being a Death Eater. He wanted her to mind her own bloody business and just talk the Ministry into trials. But he was also a reasonable man. If he were putting his neck not he line like Granger was, he'd also want the whole story.

"It's a long story, Granger," he said with a sigh. "I suppose I was destined to be a Death Eater from birth. It's true i was mostly forced into it, but it's also true that I believed in the cause…for a while."

He was happy to see that Hermione wasn't judging him, at least not by the look of her face. She just nodded for him to continue. So he did. "When The Dark Lord came back after Diggory was murdered, everything in my life changed. My father was strict but he loved me and my mother. He raised me with the same values he was raised with, but I always got the feeling he didn't want to be as cold and aloof as his own father. As a result I hero worshiped him. But after Fourth Year, he _was_ colder. He was preoccupied and often scared, though he never thought anyone could see it. My mother began to have her fainting spells then. She weakened.

In Fifth Year, Father told me to stay close to Umbridge," he sneered at the name. "The old toad was repulsive. She used to look at me like she was undressing me with her eyes but I couldn't say anything. Father assured me that we needed to stay on her good side, so I did. It was all fun and games. I enjoyed stalking you guys on your pathetic little meetings in the Room of Requirement. Anything to piss off Potter," he chuckled at that. "It was childish, really. But then, I was pretty childish before Sixth Year."

Hermione listened intently, quite shocked at how candid he was being. She didn't say a word because she didn't want to interrupt his narrative or get him off track. She just soaked up everything he said and let him tell his story.

"About a month before Sixth Year began, the Dark Lord moved into our home part time. After Father was arrested in the Ministry, Mother took to her room. She had no control over the house. She had no control over what the Dark Lord did in the house. I was there, trying to be the man of the house, but I was scared shitless." He looked up at her then, daring her to make fun of him, but she just looked back at him with sympathy. He would never understand her. She had every right to tell him to get over himself. His problems were not so bad compared to others, but she didn't. She actually seemed to understand him.

"Anyway, I was told ahead of time it would happen. I'd be inducted and I'd get my mission then, to make up for my father's failure. I wasn't coerced. I wasn't threatened. I was told what would happen and I accepted it. I was honored," Draco admitted. And he had been. He'd thought that he was a special snowflake and that the Dark Lord had chosen him, the next Malfoy in the line, because Malfoys were superior. It wasn't until he sat in his room later, thinking about the mission he'd been given, that he really started to understand that the Dark Lord was punishing his father.

"It didn't take long for me to realize this task was the worst thing to ever happen to me. I didn't want to kill Dumbledore. And being a Death Eater was nothing like I'd imagined. It was mostly listening to the Dark Lord go on endless rants and watching people be murdered. It was sickening. Going back to Hogwarts was a welcome distraction, until I had to actually follow through with my mission. I wish I had a good excuse, but I did it because I was afraid and I didn't know what else to do. I let Bella and the others in because I didn't know how to say 'no'." He shook his head in disgust. "I was pathetic."

"Draco, you are not the only son of a Death Eater who joined because you didn't know there was any other option," Hermione said softly.

"Don't pity me," Draco snapped. "That's even more pathetic."

"It's not pity!" Hermione protested. "I could easily have been the Death Eater if I were raised as Malfoy. It's called compassion, and it's not a weakness," she pointed out.

"Anyway, that's my story," Draco said with a shrug, changing the subject. "I'm guilty, regardless of motivation."

"There are levels of guilt," Hermione pointed out.

"Oh, you want to talk Philosophy?" He asked, chuckling at her.

She was always amazing at how quick his emotions could change. "Maybe," she smirked back. "But it's true. You were a Death Eater, but you never killed anyone. You have no Unforgivables on your wand scan. _And_ you tried not to give us up when we were captured by Greyback and his friends. You are certainly not as guilty as, say, Bellatrix who would have certainly murdered us all without a thought if she'd been given the opportunity."

"You have a point," Draco pointed out, "But i very much doubt your friends in the Wizengamot give one single fuck about levels of guilt."

"We'll see," Hermione said pursing her lips. Not that he was wrong. However, she wasn't quite prepared to give up on the idea that there still existed some reasonable people within the Ministry who could put aside prejudice for justice. "Thank you for being honest with me, Draco," she said with a warm smile. "I'll see to it that a healer sees your mother as soon as possible. And, please don't make it difficult for them to assess you as well."

"Whatever you say, Granger," Draco replied in a clipped tone. With that, she got up and left.

* * *

 ** _Day 103_**

"She needs to be in St. Mungos immediately," Healer Goldstein declared before an open meeting of the Wizengamot. "Narcissa Malfoy is our most serious case of clinical depression, but she's not the only one in need of medical care. No fewer than ten inmates are at risk of severe mental and physical atrophy if left in there."

"I'm sure you are aware that Azkaban is not a resort," one Wizengamot member said snidely. "It's meant to be punishment."

"Excuse me," Hermione said with a raised hand from the gallery. Standing, she ignored the frustrated sighs from half of the governing body. "I thought they were being kept there to await trial. In that case, punishment is not the goal, correct. Rather, they are meant to be kept in a safe and secure place until they can stand trial."

"Those with the Mark do not need to stand trial," another member replied. "Their guilt is unquestionable."

"For one," Hermione began, "Narcissa Malfoy has no mark. In fact, at least twenty prisoners have no mark. Secondly…"

"Excuse me, but this is a Wizengamot meeting," Dolores Umbridge stood up, and primly declared. "You cannot just hijack the conversation."

"Excuse _me_ ," Hermione said, her tone biting as she envisioned squashing the toady woman's head, "but this is a public forum for which any member of the public can speak. Until, of course, you lot of tyrants revoke that right as well. As I was saying, Secondly, almost half of the inmates have no Unforgivables on their wand scans. They are being kept prisoner, indefinitely, and they deserve the same rights of medical care as anyone else."

Before a member of the Wizengamot could chastise her further, Healer Goldstein spoke again. "It is my medical opinion that denying these prisoners the right to proper medical care, nutrition, and free movement is a violation of the International Wizarding Rights Act of 1925. I have a professional obligation to file such findings with the International Courts."

Hermione could have kissed the man right on the mouth. She knew she'd found the right healer when she met him. He had the clout to do what she could not, and she _knew_ the Wizengamot did not want to deal with an International inspection of their sovereign judicial system. Smiling to herself, she considered this battle won.

* * *

 ** _Day 106_**

"WHERE ARE YOU TAKING HER!" Draco shouted, internally wishing death on the two guards that were hoisting his mother out of the cell none too delicately.

"St. Mungos," the taller guard grunted in response.

"No! Put me down!" Narcissa cried, kicking at the two men.

"Mother, don't fight," Draco instantly calmed. "Granger got you transferred. You will be fine now. Potter will see to it." He wanted to weep with relief. That bushy headed know-it-all actually did it. He couldn't believe it.

"But Draco," his mother whimpered.

"I'll be fine," he assured her. "Granger won't let me rot in here either." He had no idea if he was telling his mother the truth, but he had to get her out of there without a fight and she slowly seemed to acquiesce. He blew out a sigh of relief as he watched her go. Whatever else happened, Granger had saved his mother, and for that he owed her.

* * *

 ** _Day 115_**

Draco barely moved as the cold water hit him in the back, soaking his clothes through. After his mother had been taken, things went back to business as usual in Azkaban. He no longer had a sense of purpose or companionship and after a few days, his will to live began to shrivel up.

Food was more scarce and rarely did guards ever even come past his cell anymore. He began to wonder if he was all alone in the world, actually. Granger hadn't come either. Not that he expected her to, necessarily. With no news on the trials, she had no reason to come. It didn't mean he didn't miss human interaction, even if it was with his childhood enemy.

His clothes dripped as he curled tighter into himself in a futile attempt to fight off the cold.

* * *

 ** _Day 119_**

His lungs hurt with each breath. He was sure he was dying. The cough that had set in a few days ago rattled in his chest, hurting his dehydrated head and making him wish he were dead with every breath.

Suicide charms existed on all cells, but even if they didn't, he doubted he had the strength to end his misery anyway. He'd never been this sick in his whole life - not even the time he'd caught Dragon Pox and had to lie in bed for two weeks. At least then he was comfortable and his mother was there to dote on him.

He coughed again, groaning from the pain and slipped his eyes shut hoping to find peace in sleep.

* * *

 ** _Day 122_**

"I want to see him right now!" Hermione screeched, stamping her foot petulantly. She knew how ridiculous she sounded, but after more than two weeks since she'd checked in on Malfoy, it was most unusual for the guards of Azkaban to tell her he was not available. What could he possibly be doing instead?

"He's not well," the guard finally said. "Probably contagious."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "Well, has he seen a healer?"

"Of course not," the guard scoffed. "Protocol is to let an elf check him for signs of life and move on."

"That is…barbaric!" she cried. "I have specific orders from Kingsley Shacklebolt himself to see to it these transient prisoners are given the highest quality medical care. Protocols were supposed to have changed, or can't you imbeciles manage to learn new information!? Now, i want to see him right now. If he cannot come to me, you take me to him!"

"Miss, that is highly irregular. We cannot possibly take you into the prison," The guard protested.

"Do I need to call the Minister of Magic?" She queried knowing full well the Minister didn't give one blessed fuck about Draco Malfoy, but _they_ didn't know that.

The guard seemed to think hard about that question before finally sighing and opening the door of the visitor room that led to the cells. "But if something happens, it's entirely on _you_ ," he warned.

"Fine," she agreed and followed him, nose in the air, as he led her into the depths of the prison. The first thing she noticed was the smell. It was like human decay. She nearly gagged as she caught her first whiff. It was dark and dank. Everything seemed to be wet and rotting. Every cliche about a run down mental facility from Muggle movies seemed to be in order. She felt her chest tighten as she realized more than one-hundred people were living in this hell.

The guard made quick work of the various hallways, and Hermione took great care remembering every twist and turn in case there was need for a quick flight from the prison. She didn't know why, but she didn't feel safe there. Not at all. She could feel the ice cold presence of the Dementors, but she could tell they were far off. _Thank Merlin for small miracles._

"He's in there," the guard said, pointing a thumb at the cell they stopped in front of.

"Let me in," she demanded. "I can't see anything from here."

He sighed heavily and used his wand to open the door. Hermione quickly made her way into the cell and over to the lump of what she assumed was Malfoy. "Draco," she called quietly. He didn't move. "Draco," she called again, this time lightly shaking him.

He rolled over suddenly, coughing uncontrollably, and she gasped at the sight of him. In two weeks he'd become unnaturally thin. He was covered in filth and his skin was nearly translucent. Sores were opening along the edges of his clothes where the wet cloth had rubbed against already sensitive skin. He looked and smelled like death.

"What have you done to him!" she cried, looking back at the guard. "He's nearly dead!" She ran diagnostic test on him, and found him to be severely dehydrated, suffering from high grade pneumonia, and a severe infection. She didn't anticipate he would live longer than a few days at this rate.

"He cannot stay here," she decreed. "I want him transferred to St. Mungos, right now."

"You don't have the authority," the guard said haughtily.

"No," she admitted. "But Healer Goldstein does. I'll have him here within fifteen minutes." With that, she sent out her Patronus otter to deliver her emergency message to the healer who was overseeing the care of Azkaban prisoners. For one, he did seem to actually care about these people. But secondly, she was technically paying his fees. He wouldn't hesitate to come to her call.

Hermione knelt next to Draco pulling his head into her lap as she waited. If i weren't for the ragged pull of breath in and out she would have been sure he was dead. "Draco stay with me," she repeated over and over. She couldn't believe it had gotten this bad. It made her wonder what the conditions in other cells were. She and Goldstein would have to insist on seeing prisoners even if the guards didn't report illnesses. Apparently, they could not be trusted. How many people must have died horrible deaths in this place due to the indifferent neglect of this penal system?

Within ten minutes a harried Healer Goldstein bounded into the cell. It only took a quick look at Draco for him to nod his head to Hermione and turn to the guard and tell him Draco was being transferred under no uncertain terms. The guard just shrugged. She had no idea how these people could have so little concern for the people they watched over daily.

"Hold on, Hermione," Goldstein ordered. "I'll Apparate us all. He doesn't have much time."


	6. Friendship

**_A/N: I know. Long delay. Sorry guys. Lots of life stuff. Anyway, here is the latest chapter. This will be a romance but also have elements of a political drama. You might notice some interesting similarities with current events, I do hope not to offend. :) Enjoy.  
_**

* * *

 ** _Friendship_**

 ** _Day 122_**

"Hermione, you are going to have to stay out here," Healer Goldstein said, holding his arm out to block her form entering the emergency access-only doors.

"But -" she started, but he shook his head.

"You know the rules. I need to assess him and start the work up. You aren't allowed in the room. I'll get you as soon as he is stabilized," the healer told her. She reluctantly nodded and took a deep breath before walking to the emergent waiting room and plopping down on a chair.

After about two minutes she was jumpy and needed something to do. She pulled a pad of paper and a muggle pen from her ever-present beaded bag to write a few notes to relevant people. First was Harry.

 _Harry,_

 _I'm at St. Mungos. Don't freak out. I'm fine. Draco Malfoy isn't though. I went to see him and he was near death. I had to call on Healer Goldstein immediately and he Apparated us directly. It's bad, Harry. I'll keep you posted, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to make dinner at the Burrow tonight. Please let them know I wanted to come._

 _Hermione_

Then she wrote Kingsley.

 _Kings,_

 _We have to talk. Draco Malfoy was just found nearly dead in his cell. Wizengamot be damned, I'm going to go public with this as soon as I find out what's going on. There must be at least some people in this country who don't approve of torture and confinement without due process._

 _I'm certain Healer Goldstein will make good on his promise to go to the International Courts now. Just giving you the heads up. I don't blame you. This is the fault of many people, but I know you are trying. I'll keep you updated._

Hermione.

She felt slightly calmer after sending the letters off with a Hospital Owl, but only slightly. Still, she couldn't relax. She twisted her fingers together and paced back and forth rather than sitting down again. Malfoy had to be okay. She couldn't live with herself if something happened to him and she'd been too busy to see him for two weeks. How could she have put it off so long? Sure, she was busy, but nothing was as important as these people in Azkaban.

She shook her head clear of the thoughts. Nothing could be done about it at this point. All she could do is look ahead and figure out how to move forward. _Luna!_

Excitedly, she pulled out her writing utensils again and set off a message to Luna. Sure, T _he Quibbler_ wasn't as highly matriculated as _The Daily Prophet_ but it was read by a wide number of people who still thought of Harry, Ron and herself as the 'saviors' of Wizarding Britain. That was just the right audience to start her crusade. She knew Luna would be more than happy to publish.

She felt renewed purpose after writing to Luna and tried to sit down again. She failed, of course, hopping up to pace the room again for the next several minutes.

"Hermione!" she heard someone call behind her as she twirled around to see Healer Goldstein coming toward her.

"How is he?" she asked, her stomach clinching in anticipation.

"He's stabilized," he replied with a tired sigh. "Come," he indicated for her to follow and she did, right through to where he'd taken Draco a few hours earlier. He talked as he walked. "He had a high grade fever but we brought it down. His lungs are filled with fluid from some kind of virus, I assume it was airborne, as he's been in there alone. It means any of the inmates could also be this sick. I have to get back there immediately."

"Okay," Hermione sad dumbly. "What do we do now?"

"I want you to stay here, if you are willing," Goldstein said. He looked around uncomfortably. "I don't think I need to tell you that not everyone can be trusted with these patients. I have my best working on the designated wing for Azkaban patients on the fourth floor, but he's not ready to be moved. Normally I wouldn't ask but…"

"No," Hermione said, cutting him off. "Of course, I'll stay. I'll make sure he's treated well. What do I need to do?"

She was eager to help. She needed something to do.

"First, you need to do a bubble head charm," Goldstein instructed. "I have no way of knowing if he's still contagious but it's best to take safety measures. "Then, it's a matter of giving him the sleeping potion, that's the green one, if he wakes and the potion for his infection, that's the blue one, every four hours. I'll be back to move him as soon as I'm finished checking the prison and stabilizing any other patients."

"Okay," Hermione said. "Thank you so much."

"This is wrong what's happening here," the healer said sternly. "It's barbaric."

"I know," Hermione frowned. He nodded and headed back down the hall toward the mediwitch desk. Taking a deep breath, Hermione steeled herself for what she'd see in Draco's room. She couldn't imagine it could be worse than how he looked passed out on the floor of his cell in Azkaban.

She was right. He did look better, but only just. He was clean at least. His bright blonde hair was not matted or dirty as it had been for months. His skin was pristine and pale and he looked peaceful in his sleep. But his breaths were still ragged and she could hear him wheezing with each breath. She knew his pain was managed and he had a monitor to check his oxygen levels and general health, but she couldn't help but gasp at how terrible his breaths sounded.

"I'm glad you're okay," she said, feeling stupid talking to a comatose man. "Those guards are going to wish they were never born after Healer Goldstein is done with them." She chuckled nervously.

"Well, you won't be going back there," she finally told him with conviction. "Over my dead body will anyone who leaves that place ever go back inside it without serious reforms." Even convicted criminals couldn't live like that. It would have been more humane to kill them. She hated the very idea.

She sat next to the bed and used her wand to set a timer for Draco's medication before letting her eyes settle on his face. She stared at him for a long time, mentally preparing herself for the long road ahead of her. It was only just beginning.

* * *

 ** _Day 123_**

"Granger?" a groggy voice woke Hermione from her slumber, her head bent down to the hospital bed in front of her. She shot up like an arrow, trying to get her bearings before focusing on the man in the bed before her.

"Oh!" she cried, "Malfoy, let me get your sleeping potion," she said more to herself than him. It was the first time he'd awakened since she was put on his watch.

"Wait," Draco said, holding up his right hand to stop her, with great effort. "Where am I? Don't put my back under. Just tell me where I am and how I got here," he pleaded.

She contemplated his request and figured, if he was in too much pain she could always force the potion on him later. It _would_ be disorienting waking up like that. "Um," she said, shaking her head to clear it. She was still groggy from her impromptu nap. "You are in St. Mungos." His eyes widened but he didn't say anything.

"When I came to see you, the guards said you were sick. When they informed me they hadn't actually called a healer, I demanded to be taken to your cell. Merlin, Draco, I have no idea how you lived there," she rushed out. He frowned but still remained silent so she went on. "I thought you were dead," she admitted. "I called for Healer Goldstein and he brought you here. He's getting the rest of the sick prisoners set up here. I think the Ministry is about to be in big international trouble."

Draco scoffed slightly at that, in disbelief, but didn't say anything. He was mulling over what she'd told him in his head. He felt like hell. His chest felt like it was in a vice, but at least he no longer felt dehydrated or dirty. In fact, looking down, he noticed he was not only clean but wearing a clean hospital robe. He was lying on a lumpy bed, but it felt like heaven in comparison to the stone bench he'd had for a bed for months.

"How long was I asleep?" he asked, his tone shaky and his breath still slightly raspy.

"Uhh," Hermione looked down at the Muggle watch she'd bought herself for Graduation. "Ten hours. It's just about five in the morning."

"Why are you here?" he said, indicating the chair she'd been sleeping in when he woke up. "I'm sure you have better places to be."

Hermione blushed. "I hadn't meant to fall asleep. I've been burning the candle at both ends lately. I stayed to administer your potions and make sure the staff treated your properly," she admitted. "Not everyone is as willing to look past that," she said, pointing to the faded Dark Mark on Draco's arm.

"Oh," he said, his cheeks coloring as he stuffed his left arm under the blanket. She hadn't meant to hurt his feelings.

"I didn't mean…" she started but he stopped her.

"It's fine, Granger," he said. "So, how long until they send me back?" he shivered at the thought. He absolutely did _not_ want to go back to Azkaban.

"You won't be," Hermione said with conviction. "Never again. And that whole place will be shut down permanently if I have anything to say about it."

The fire in her eyes with astonishing, and Draco couldn't bring himself to remind her that likely no one cared about the inmates there or what happened to them. In fact, they'd prefer not knowing and just imagine that things were fine in Azkaban Prison. Most folks really operated by the motto: out of sight, out of mind. Clearly Hermione Granger was not one of those people.

"Are you in pain?" she asked. "I have a pain potion to give you."

"Not so much," Draco lied. He was in a bit of pain but he didn't want his mind fuzzy. He wanted to savor his 'freedom', even if it was just the illusion of freedom, at least for a few more moments. Hermione nodded and took her seat again. Uncomfortable silence settled over them.

* * *

"Blimey, Hermione," Ron said, his voice incredibly shocked. "I had no idea it was like _that."_ After Goldstein returned, she made sure Draco would be secure in the wing with the other prison patients and headed over to Grimmauld Place to talk to Harry about what happened. He and Ron were already together, working on their Auror applications when she arrived. She could tell that her story about the conditions as Azkaban had shocked them both. It wasn't as if anyone thought it was a picnic in Azkaban, but no one could have imagined it was as bad as it was. She wished she's spent more time with Sirius before he died. He must have been so mentally screwed up from twelve years in that place.

"I can't believe they just let people waste away in there," Harry said. "Aren't there some kind of laws against that?"

"Only insofar as Wizarding Britain has agreed to International Accords. They don't have any specific laws about this kind of thing. To be honest, Wizarding Britain has never really cared much about the convicted. They only signed the accords for public relations reasons. When we were at war, the International Wizarding Community could turn a blind eye. Now? I don't think so," Hermione explained.

"So, how many prisoners ended up at St. Mungos?" Harry asked.

"Fifteen," Hermione said. "But we've got a schedule now to have all the inmates checked twice a week."

"That has to be getting expensive," Ron pointed out. He knew she'd taken on the economic burden of the task and he worried about her financial future.

"Goldstein has agreed to work pro-bono," Hermione said. "The rest of the staff is much less expensive. Hospital fees are the killer."

"I just think it's crazy that private citizens have to fund justice now," Harry muttered.

"I know," Hermione sighed. "Wizarding Britain has been in need of reform for quite some time. Old minds are hard to change, but we've got to start somewhere."

"You know, they are about to start campaigning for a new government soon," Ron pointed out. "Maybe Hermione should run for Minister."

Hermione laughed, "Yes, a nineteen year old muggle born will be the next Minister of Magic. Sure, Ron."

"You know, there's no law against it," Harry pointed out.

Hermione sputtered at them both. "As if I have the time or energy to run for office. I've barely just passed my NEWTS! I doubt I would even enjoy such a position. It's all bureaucracy and very little action. It's insane to even talk about."

"I don't know." Harry shook his head. "I just hate to see what the electorate replaces this Wizengamot with. Could be a lot worse."

Sadly, Harry wasn't too far off the mark. It really could be much worse. The 'mob' was in a fit of rage about the Ministry's handling of Voldemort and they were scared. Scared masses were rarely ever good for a Democracy. They were terrible for a Republic such as Wizarding Britain was. Still, it wasn't something she could think about at the moment. She had to get out her message about the Prisoners of Azkaban via the Quibbler and focus on one thing at at time. Right now, fair trials were enough to worry about.

* * *

 _Day 126_

 _Wizard Weekly Op-ed:_

 ** _Injustice in the Justice Department_**

 ** _It has been just over four months since the fall of Voldemort at the hands of The Order of the Phoenix and a handful of school children, but already our society faces another serious question. What is justice in the aftermath of war?_**

 ** _Almost immediately after reuniting after the Final Battle, the Wizengamot passed a sting of questionable laws about the dealing with Death Eaters and those who may have even tenuous ties to Death Eaters. Purebloods, like Muggle borns before them, have been singled out for second class citizenship in a case of 'reverse racism' almost as swift and extreme as the notorious 'Mudblood' Laws from mere months ago._**

 ** _One might feel Whiplash from the sudden abandonment of one restrictive and illegal ideology to another - this is especially true given that 80% of the Wizengamot is made up of the very Witches and Wizards that failed to act when Voldemort was rising, and sat idly by as their Muggle Born Colleagues were subject to dehumanizing 'inquiries' about their theft of magic._**

 ** _The object of mistrust might have changed, but the apparatus is the same. Find a target of fear, drive it out - or at least appear to be driving it out - give the illusion of safety. But just as the injustice of the 'Mudblood Laws' was morally repugnant, so is the lack of justice for both accused criminals and people who've never been accused of any crime at all._**

 ** _In a just society, people must be given the right to defend themselves. In a just society, you must give people access to a fair trial in a timely manner. And in a just society, you cannot be 'guilty' by association or birth._**

 ** _It is time to end the 'Pureblood Laws'. If you don't think it can happen to you, remember how quickly the winds changed based on the fall of one man. If you do not stand up for the persecuted, who will stand for you when_** **you** ** _are being persecuted?_**

The Quibbler:

 ** _Statement from War Heroine Hermione Granger_**

 _ ***These remarks are the full, unedited account of conditions at Azkaban Prison by Hermione Granger**_

 _ **It is time to take note of how we as a 'free' society treat the convicted as well as the merely accused. It might be the opinion of some that these people get exactly what they deserve. I wonder, how many of you know what the conditions in Azkaban Prison are really like? Did you know that they do not receive necessary medical care? Did you know that inmates are subject to disease ridden vermin? Did you know that there is no plumbing for more than one-hundred inmates? Did you know that guards can limit food rations as punishment? Did you know that inmates are not granted any human contact outside of a few encounters with guards a day? Did you know that the Dementors, who sided with Voldemort, still guard the prison? Did you know that, at present, two-thirds of the population has not yet been convicted of any crime?**_

 _ **I've been in Azkaban and I can tell you, you have no idea how harsh and inhumane the conditions are. Inmates suffer plagues and malnutrition on a regular basis. They are suffering human beings. No one has the right to subject any other human being to these conditions, certainly no unelected government. Do not allow them to turn your fear into tyranny.**_

* * *

 _Day 131_

"The Ministry is sweating," Hermione said to Draco, a bit of pride in her voice. Luna had made good on her word. Not only had she published Hermione's statement, but she'd flooded her readership with editorials on justice and the role of Government in injustice. The editor at _Wizard Weekly_ was also sympathetic to their cause, having also expressed concerns about Wizarding Britain's criminal justice system in the past.

"I doubt that," Draco said with a sigh. He was getting sick of being in a hospital bed, though he supposed it could have been much worse. He shuddered as he remembered Azkaban.

"Cold?" Hermione asked, concerned. He'd been surprised how much time she spent with him. He wondered if she felt guilty for leaving him in Azkaban alone for so long and was making amends. There was no need. He knew her world didn't revolve around him. Why should it? She'd saved him in the end, and he was never going back to Azkaban if he had anything to say about it. All of that was thanks to her.

He'd already decided, if he was to return to that place, he'd kill himself - by any means necessary - before they ever got the chance to take him.

"No," he answered her concerned question. "I just don't have much faith in the system, so you'll forgive my cynicism."

Hermione smirked at that. It was true. She could hardly expect him to trust the Ministry to get anything right. "I suppose that makes sense," she offered.

"I mean," he continued, "look at the _Prophet_ this morning. Did you see the two front runners for Minister announcing their campaign kick off?"

Hermione hadn't seen _The Prophet_ that morning. In fact, she could barely stand to read the rag. "No. But it seems a bit early, right? As far as I know, they aren't planning to have an election for at least eight months."

"Well, Jeanine Fudge and Reginald Drumpf don't seem to give one blessed shit, do they?" Draco sorted. Hermione chuckled at that. As hard as it was for her to admit, she rather liked Draco Malfoy. He was certainly intelligent and outspoken. She wondered, if blood purity wasn't considered important in their would, could they have actually been friends.

"Those two?" she commented. "Merlin, I hope other people run. She's no better than her husband Cornelius. and Drumpf? Good god, what a narcissistic wanker."

"With their money and influence, I think you can be assured that the nest Minister of Magic will be Fudge or Drumpf. If that happens, I suppose I can give up any chance of a trial," Draco said morosely.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "You are getting your trial before that election if it's the last thing I do."

"If you say so," Draco shrugged. "Anyway, enough of that. How is mother? Do you think I'll be able to see her soon?"

"She's doing much better now that she knows you are well," Hermione told him. "And it just so happens that I've pulled some strings and - well, it looks as if you are about to have a roommate again. I do hope you aren't too put out by sharing with your mother." She smiled warmly at him as his eyes lit up.

"Granger! You are a miracle worker!" he said, sitting up with great effort. "Thank you," he said honestly. "I don't know how I'll ever repay what you've done for us."

"I couldn't get them to budge about your father," Hermione admitted with a frown. "He's being kept with high security prisoners."

"I never expected even this, Granger," Draco admitted. "I know he belongs in Azkaban, even if it pains me to think of him in there."

"It's really no problem," Hermione said, blushing as he stared at her intently. "I'd better go while they get you ready for your new room."

Before she could move away from his bed, Draco instinctively reached out to grab her hand. "I'm serious, Hermione," he said. "Thank you. I will do everything I can to pay you back for all you've done."

"All I want is for you to just live your life." She gave his warm hand a squeeze and smiled softly before leaving him there, her heart beating hard in her chest. Open and receptive Draco was disarming. Everything she thought had turned upside down in her tentative friendship with the blonde man. As much as she implored him to think about blood superiority, she was learning that even with criminals, there was more than just the bad things they had done to judge them on.

Draco stared at the empty doorway for a long moment wishing she hadn't left.


	7. Muggle Pens

**A/N: Thanks for the lovely reviews. Never forget, they feed my muse! :) I'm glad some of you noticed the real life parallels...more of that to come. And, remember, this is not meant to offend anyone of any political persuasion...but I can understand if you start finding yourself agreeing with Drumpf, you probably are not going to be a fan. :P This isn't a long chapter but it was fun to write. Let me know what you think.**

* * *

 **Muggle Pens**

 ** _Day 145_**

"It's been two fucking weeks!" Draco shouted, throwing the bed pan next to his bed and the wall. "I'm perfectly healthy. I don't need you mollycoddling me, for fuck's sake, Granger!"

Hermione stared at him, wide eyed and blinking. Her brow furrowed at his outrage. All she did was offer to go to the Manor, with Harry and Ron, to bring back some clothes so that he and his mother could wear something more comfortable than the medical robe's they'd been wearing for weeks. Apparently the idea of her in his house was supremely offensive because he lost his mind almost immediately.

"Malfoy, listen," Harry interjected, trying his best not to yell at the spoiled arsehole. "If you don't want us to go, that's fine with us."

"Yeah," Ron muttered. "I have better things to do, certainly."

"Then get the fuck out!" Draco yelled. He had no idea why he was going off the rails but he knew that his hospital room was driving him insane. He heard his mother 'tut' next to him, and he sighed. Great, his only ally was about to lecture him now, again. He was just so angry.

At first, he was relieved to not be in Azkaban. But now, Granger's constant presence and pity as well as the illusion of freedom without actually being allowed to be free was eating away at him. Plus, the irritating twins accompanied her half the time, though they rarely came into his room. Their mere presences anywhere near him set his teeth on edge.

"Malfoy," Hermione said, her tone annoyingly calm. "I know it's hard but…"

"Oh, do you!?" Draco snapped. "Have you been locked in a room for five months? Are you, currently, awaiting a sentence that will send you back to a rotting hellhole? No? Oh. Okay. Then you have no bleeding idea what it is like…"

"That's enough, Draco," Narcissa said from his right. Her voice was soft, but he knew that tone. She had reached the end of her patience.

"It's okay, Mrs Malfoy," Hermione started, but his mother cut her off too.

"No. It is not okay. You are doing a great deal for our family and while I understand Draco's frustration, he has no right to take it out on you." Draco shot his mother a betrayed look and watched as the older woman pursed her lips.

"Draco, you will apologize to Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Weasley," she said. He could have crawled in a hole and died. What was more embarrassing than having your own mother chastise you in front of your mortal enemy? He felt like he was five years old all over again. He gritted his teeth as he looked to the three smug assholes in front of him. Well, two were smug. Granger wasn't really smug. She was just always so fucking understanding and optimistic. It make his skin itch. Something was clearly wrong with that girl.

"I apologize for my outburst," he finally spit out, barely. 'Sorry' just still wouldn't make it past his lips. It seemed good enough for his mother because she nodded and turned her attention back to Granger.

"If you wouldn't mind," she said kindly, "I would very much appreciate a proper nightgown and some socks. I should think Draco needs some comfortable clothes as well. A few books wouldn't go amiss."

Draco looked at his mom and shook his head. The woman never did have trouble asking others to do things for her. Apparently, that extended to the Gryffindorks.

"That's no problem at all," Hermione said with a warm smile. "If you could just write down where we can find these things…" she said handing Narcissa a slip of paper and a muggle pen.

"Um…" Narcissa inelegantly stuttered looking at the contraption in her hand. "I…"

Hermione could have smacked herself. She never even considered that Narcissa Malfoy might not know what a muggle pen was, and certainly she would not know how to use one.

"So sorry," Hermione said, blushing, digging in her bag to find a Quill and ink. "I usually use the muggle ones because they are more convenient, but I'm sure I have…"

"No," Narcissa said, putting a hand up. She regarded the writing stick in her and with mild disgust but also at least some interest. "How does it work?" she finally asked.

Hermione looked to Draco, hoping he wouldn't have another outburst. He seemed equally fascinated by the basic fifty pence pen his mother was regarding critically. Harry and Ron exchanged a bemused look. "Here," she finally said coming toward Draco's mother and holding her hand out for the pen.

"Like this," she said, clicking the top of the pen to activate the tip of the pen. Narcissa gasped but Hermione had her full attention. Swallowing hard, Hermione reached for the paper she'd just given the Malfoy matriarch and scribbled a few quick loops onto it. "See, it's very much like a quill only the ink is kept in a container inside the pen so you don't have to worry about spilling or dipping it constantly. It's great for portable use," she explained.

"Remarkable," Mrs. Malfoy breathed. "Well, let's give it a try, then." With an awkward smile, she extended her hand for the pen again and placed the paper on the table before her. The rest of the room watched as Narcissa Malfoy scribbled out directions for the Golden Trio on regular notebook paper and with a muggle pen. When she was finished she handed both back to Hermione.

"It's not as elegant as a proper quill, but that's quite ingenious," she said as if nothing monumental had not just taken place.

"Thank you," Hermione said, making a point not to make a big deal out of what had happened. "I'll be back as soon as we are finished."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione shuffled from the room leaving Draco staring at his mother with a look of incredulity.

"What was _that_?" he finally asked. His mother had returned to normal spirits by the time he'd moved in with her and he was grateful for that, but now she'd taken her good mood almost to insane levels. His mother, Narcissa Malfoy, the woman who thought Muggles on the same level as livestock, just happily used a muggle item without so much as a sneer - even if he could tell she'd had to fight one back. He was worried the medicine she was getting had sent her into the opposite direction and she was becoming as barmy as that Lovegood chit.

"What?" his mother asked innocently.

"You know what!" Draco cried. "Not only are you being kind to a Mudblood," he ignored her hiss at his slur, "He-Who-Shall-Never-Die and a _Weasley, y_ ou sent them into our _house_!"

"Oh really, Draco," his mom replied. "We really do need those things, and I don't see why we shouldn't trust them. Miss Granger has proven that she's interested in helping us."

"No," Draco said, "This is different. You know Muggles are beneath us. Muggle-borns are barely above that. You are treating them like equals! What would father say?"

Narcissa frowned and seemed to think hard about her answer. He could tell that she'd been thinking about this very thing for a rather long time. "Of course I know Muggles are dangerous and lack the refinement and intelligence of wizards. And, Muggle-borns, since they come from those families, almost cannot help being the same. They aren't Pureblood, and therefore inferior, but how can you be so ungrateful?" Narcissa asked. "They are helping us. They want us to be free," she explained.

"You just commended Muggle technology," Draco said, gesticulating to her hands even though the pen was long gone with Granger.

"Really, Draco, it is quite ingenious," Narcissa said with a roll of her eyes. "It certainly isn't as good as the elegance and style of a quill. The writing is blunt and rudimentary, much like Muggles. But it is useful. That's just a fact. And if I have to compliment Miss Granger's heritage a bit to repay her kindness, I'll do so."

"But…" Draco tried to come up with another argument, but he had to admit his mother wasn't wrong. What difference did it make if they played a little lip service to Granger. She was helping them after all. A Slytherin wouldn't bite the hand that feeds it. For some reason, when it came to Hermione, though, there was an underlying gut instinct to run from any positive interactions. He couldn't explain it. It was like a switch flipped in him and when he started to think she was alright, he immediately pushed the idea form his head.

When he'd been recovering, he was so grateful to her for her saving him that he'd forgotten he wasn't supposed to feel that way. She was wrong and dirty. Even if she was a good person - and there was no denying she was - it didn't change facts. People had their place. She belonged with Potter and the blood traitors and he belonged with his own kind. Perhaps, after his trial things would just go back to the way they were. He couldn't hate her, but he certainly didn't want to be her friend. It was too messy. Too confusing. He needed to remember that things belonged in their proper place. And his place was not anywhere near Hermione Granger.

* * *

"I still can't believe you give one fig about that tosser," Ron muttered as the trudged toward the Apparition point near St. Mungos.

"It's not about him," Hermione insisted, though, that certainly didn't explain why she spent so much more time checking on him and his mother than anyone else - including Pansy and Theo, whom she felt were at least good acquaintances at this point. She didn't want to think about that. In the days after his recovery and move to the main ward for Azkaban patients, his tolerance of her grew less and less. Still, she came. There was something about him that called her to make sure he was okay. She wanted to believe it was just that he was her age, a boy she'd known since she was eleven, and it meant that however precarious, they had a link. Whatever it was, she was determined to see him through to freedom. At this point, she believed, completely that he deserved it. He was a victim of circumstance.

But his words hurt her, no matter how much she tried to pretend they didn't. And his mother's kindness warmed her. She'd expected far worse from Narcissa Malfoy. Shaking her head she turned her attention back to her best friends.

"This is about…"

"Justice," Ron said rolling his eyes in good nature. "We know."

Harry and Hermione chuckled at him. She knew she could be rather irritating about principle. She'd given the 'it's about justice' speech so many times everyone around her was probably about ready to throttle her.

"Anyway, we'd better get this done," Harry reminded them. "We have to be at the Ministry this evening for our first Auror classes."

"Sorry," Hermione said. "I would have gone myself, but I just don't feel…"

"Hey," Harry said, stopping as they approached the Malfoy gate. "We understand. We wouldn't want you to come here alone anyway. After what happened…"

Hermione smiled weakly and nodded. "Frankly, if we could burn this sodding house to the ground, I'd be pleased," Ron said.

"Yeah, me too," Hermione admitted. With a deep breath she charged on, the other two not far behind her.

* * *

 ** _Day 148_**

The Daily Prophet:

 _The Election Heats Up!_

 _Jeanine Fudge and Reginald Drumpf have announced their candidacy and things are just starting to get serious. A mere eighteen months from election day, and both have some strong words about Wizarding Justice._

 _Earlier this week Jeanine Fudge, wife of the late Cornelius Fudge, announced her own plan for Criminal Justice Reform in typical Fudge fashion with an opulent 5000 galleon a plate luncheon in London. There she promised that she'd offer fair trials to all accused, but that those trials would only go forward after the Aurors and Prosecutors have ample amount of time to compile evidence. She also admitted that her husband's inaction had led to an escalated crisis but assured supporters that her own Administration would learn from those mistakes and move forward into a new era of cooperation._

 _Just yesterday Reginald Drumpf addressed a more modest crowd of raucous supporters as he promised that the Death Eaters would never step foot in free society again. Loud cheers erupted as he called for medieval era torture for anyone with close ties to the Death Eaters, claiming that such means are necessary in ideological wars and that such methods could extract important information that could save lives. Further, he insisted that while Purebloods bare a lot of responsibility for the rise of Voldemort, it is an influx of Muggle-borns of questionable magical ability that have stoked the fires to the point of crisis. He called upon harsh punishments for Death Eaters but also a plan to asses the magical abilities of any Muggle-born witches or wizards that seek admittance into Wizarding educational institutions. "If we can keep the ones out who do not belong, we can protect Wizarding Britain from magical degradation and resentment."_

 _One this is for sure, at least both candidate feel strongly about the safety of average British Witches and Wizards._

The Quibbler:

 _While Jeanine Fudge seeks to be a more 'reasonable' candidate to Drumpf's hysterical populism, do not be fooled. Her campaign is funded almost entirely by Pureblood committees whose interest is completely selfish and greedy. These committees are not interested in justice nor are they interested in fair play._

 _It is no wonder that Pureblood interest groups have cropped up in the wake of gross legal injustice, but these groups don't seek fairness in law. They seek economic monopolies and a return to rule. How can Jeanine claim she would be fair in her role as Minister and leader of the Wizengamot if she is being paid millions of galleons by people who have interest in using the Ministry to protect their own assets? Would she put rival Purebloods behind bars to protect her backers? Would she establish monopolies with overregulation? Would she just be another in a long line of protectionist Ministers, like her husband, obsessed with power and keeping it? You decide._

* * *

"I can't read this shit any more," Hermione threw the paper down, disgusted.

"Believe me, I know," Kingsley said, sipping his tea. "Fudge is being a right pain in the ass in The Wizengamot now, and I can expect that to continue for the next eighteen months." He sighed, shaking his head. "At the same time, with a total nut job like Drumpf running, you almost don't even care if she's being paid out by all the major Pureblood businessmen."

"Why are these the only two choices?" Hermione ranted. "A self interested crony, or a racist populist? Merlin, is _this_ what we fought for?"

"Yes," Kings replied. "We fought so that the people could have their say again. Well, this is what the people are saying."

"Bullshit," Hermione said, causing Kingsley's eyebrows to raise comically. "They are being lead to believe these are their only choices in a false dichotomy."

"Well, until someone else steps in, these _are_ the only choices," Kingsley pointed out. "But I didn't actually call you here to talk politics. I have some news about the trials."

"Oh!" Hermione perked up, hoping it was good news. "What's up?"

"Fudge wants to look like she's actually getting something done, so she's used her influence to get the interim Minister to order the trials begin. They are starting with the Parkinson, then Nott, then the Malfoys. The latter's trial is in four weeks." Kingsley said with a sly smile.

All the blood rushed to Hermione's ears as she listened. Finally. Finally they were going to find out their fate. Then the upsetting thought hit her. What if they lose?


	8. The Quibbler

**A/N: OMG, y'all. I'm the worst. It's been forever. My only excuse is muse problems and life. Please forgive. As I've said before, I won't abandon a story so don't give up on me. Just be patient. :) Here is a big longer chapter for your wait. No beta so all mistakes are mine.**

* * *

 **The Quibbler**

 ** _Day 149_**

"Just this once, Malfoy, will you please stop fighting me?" Hermione pleaded in frustration. "I'm a Mudblood. I'm good for nothing. Fine. Great. But this is serious. Your trials are in four weeks and we have scant time to put together a defense. Your accounts are frozen, and you need me. So, please, just _please_ shut up for five minutes and let me talk!"

She let a frustrated sigh after her rant. She'd rushed straight to St. Mungos after profusely thanking Kingsley for all he'd done to get the trials ready. He refused to accept responsibility, but she knew that if he hadn't at least had the integrity to push for the trials to begin with, they wouldn't have even been on Jeanine Fudge's radar.

When she came back to the hospital, Draco had been in a mood. She thought things were going to be okay after she returned with the items Narcissa requested a few days prior. He'd even thanked her when she handed him a stack of clothing, much to her surprise. The man's mood swings were enough to knock her over.

She'd been grateful for his better mood. Malfoy Manor had not been easy for her. Ron and Harry were there, which made things easier, but she fought the memories of her own torture every step of the way. When she finally rushed through the task of retrieving items and left the house, she let out a sigh of relief. The nightmares that had followed, though, proved she was not as mended from the war as she'd believed she was. So, Draco's having gratefully accepted her favor, eventually, had been appreciated.

All that progress seemed to have gone because there he was, scowling into his St. Mungos issued lunch telling her that he didn't need her help with his trial and to go away. She eyed Narcissa who remained impassive as she continued her speech, this time to both of them.

"You can't afford a solicitor. Usually, one would be provided, but the new laws bar tax-funded attorneys for Death Eaters. Narcissa, you will be given a solicitor as you never took the Mark." She saw the older woman turn up her nose, but she quickly covered her reaction and nodded, pasting a polite smile on her face.

"As for Draco," she said turning her focus back to the scowling blonde before her, "I have an idea, but I have to talk to some people. I can get a lawyer with some funds I have set aside, but I don't have much. If we can go over the facts of the case and an argument, it would cut his workload and therefore, his price. That means, we'll need to work together for the next month to build the best case we can. It also means, I need you to help me rather than fighting me," she said, her tone lecturing.

Draco wished he could hex her. The emotions raging through him were conflicted and confusing, but he chose to focus on how irritating her condescending tone was. Firstly, he was overwhelmingly relieved to know that no matter the outcome his trial was set. Either he'd be free or he'd be dead and he only had to wait a month to find out. Secondly, he was so grateful to Granger because he knew she was the only reason he was getting his trial. But, deep inside, he resented her. This was just another thing he had to owe her and he was sick of feeling indebted. He was sick of her patronizing warmth and her obnoxious need to save him like he was a wounded house elf. Resentment, he was comfortable with.

"I hope you realize, there is no way that I'm letting you buy me a lawyer like I'm helpless," he said lazily, finally deciding to at least pretend to be nice for his mother's sake.

She looked at him long and hard for a moment before turning to his mother, "Mrs. Malfoy, i apologize in advance for what I'm about to say." Narcissa looked back at her wide-eyed but said nothing as she watched Hermione turn back toward her son.

"Draco Malfoy, you don't really have many choices," she pointed out. "No one wants to deal with you. No one wants to waste their time on you but me. And, frankly, you need me. Your pride is useless here. You can sit in that bed and have your pride, or you can get the hell over yourself and help me help you. I'm calling the solicitor either way."

"Damn it, Granger! Can't you just leave it alone?" Draco snapped.

"No. I can't," she huffed. "I'll be back tomorrow after having finalized the details about your representation. I hope you've gotten over yourself by then."

The two Malfoys watched as she stomped out in a huff. "Well, she certainly is tenacious," Narcissa said.

"Mother, just don't…" Draco sighed.

"Draco, really," she said, primly folding her hands in her lap. "Why do you revert to acting like a child every time Miss Granger is here? She's trying to help and you are being needlessly difficult."

Draco sighed. "I just don't like her," he said.

"No one is telling you to like her," Narcissa said, eyeing him skeptically. "Just stop being so difficult. It's undignified."

Draco just rolled his eyes and swung both legs over the side of the bed, getting up to go to the bathroom. But his mother's question did stick in his mind. _Why did he always revert to childishness when Granger was around?_

* * *

 ** _Day 150_**

"Do you want to go back to Azkaban?" Hermione finally asked, tired from another needless battle of wills with Malfoy.

"Oh, I assure you, I'm never going back to Azkaban," Draco said stiffly.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Hermione questioned, her heart skipping a beat as she thought of the implications of that statement.

"Nevermind," he grumbled. "I've told you everything. There is no twist ending. You know everything about how I became a Death Eater, how I got the mark, what my mission was, and how Snape saved me from splitting my soul. If the Wizengamot doesn't believe that, or doesn't care, there isn't much else you can do," he reasoned.

Hermione pursed her lips. That was true, of course. "Still, we need everything accounted for, officially."

He sighed, "Well, officially, I'm pretty sure I'm fucked, Granger. Literally no one cares what happens to a Death Eater, or the son of a Death Eater, or the wife of a Death Eater. That is exactly why that knob Drumpf has sycophantic assholes likening him to Merlin for declaring he will not only kill us all, but he will also stop Mud-Muggle-borns from 'infiltrating'. People are weak and fearful, and there is nothing about the Wizengamot that makes them uniquely immune to populism."

Hermione couldn't help but agree. In fact, because they had to be elected or appointed, the Wizengamot was more prone to populism. They didn't care what was right, only what they could sell to the people as 'right'. "I know," she said. "But we have to try. Otherwise, you are going back to Azkaban for Merlin only knows how long."

"Okay," Draco agreed. "But you'll forgive me if I don't have the same faith as you. My first concern is making use my mother is exonerated. She really is innocent."

Hermione nodded. "Her mental state is fragile. Azkaban, even after reforms, would damage her." In fact, while Narcissa was back to her 'normal' self, she still had a fragile hold of herself. Healer Goldstein had private sessions with her three times a week just to maintain proper medical regimen to keep her on balance. Likely all the upset in her life along with a family predisposition had led her to mental illness that would need life long care. Currently, she was at a private session which left Hermione and Draco privacy to talk about the case. Both preferred it that way. Narcissa's presence only made interaction more tense between the two.

"I have no faith, at all, in the Wizengamot seeing reason on matters of moral relativity. Arguing that you were both raised to believe what you did will not matter to them. We have to find a way to prove you guilty of no crimes. As I see it, we can't argue that you weren't a Death Eater. Even under duress, you did take the mark. You also led Death Eaters into a school. Those are the two crimes for which I don't believe we can exonerate you. But everything else is a crime by association. You never killed anyone. You never cast an unforgivable. You did not contribute, in any real way, to the rise of Voldemort. For that reason, I am hopeful," Hermione summed up.

"If you say so," Draco said, skeptically. "Do you think Drumpf will win?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "No. I can't imagine how people could be led so astray as to…"

He scoffed at that. "Your optimism is borderline insane, Granger."

"Even Fudge would be better than him!" she protested, "And she's almost the worst! I feel like, at any moment, Umbridge will throw her hat in the ring, and then I'm moving to Australia!"

"If you hate the candidates so much, why don't you run?" Draco asked, half joking.

"Oh sure. nineteen year old Muggle-born who didn't even finish Hogwarts is going to run against Madame Fudge and one of the richest men in Wizarding Britain. Even if I had time to run, there is no way in hell that anyone would take such a campaign seriously," she said. It wasn't the first time the idea had been broached with her. She thought her friends insane to even think such a thought. She was, in no way, cut out for politics, especially not the highest political office in the country. It was absurd.

"Even at nineteen, and even as a school drop out," she bristled at the descriptor but said nothing. Even if she _was_ finishing her NEWTS in a few weeks, it was true, "you'd be a fucking dream come true for the Minister's office in comparison to these power hungry arseholes."

Hermione chuckled, "Such high compliments. You are sure to spoil me!'

Draco smirked. "Yes well, saying you are better than an entrenched crony who would name herself dictator if she could, and a moronic racist populist isn't exactly a difficult evaluation."

"Hey, Malfoy. I'll take what I can get," she said with a warm smile and he felt a tingling though his limbs. He fucking hated it.

"Plus, you missed out on Head Girl. The natural conclusion would be for you to be Minister instead," he joked. Hermione chuckled at that. She could still remember how irritated she'd been, as irrational as it was, when she realized her year on the run meant she would not be Head Girl like she'd always imagined.

"I might not have been Head Girl," she hedged.

"Ha!" Draco coughed out a laugh. "If there was ever an obvious choice it was you."

Hermione beamed at the underlying praise.

"Because you were McGonagal's pet, of course," Draco amended.

"Of course," Hermione said with a knowing smirk. Whether he liked it or not, he complimented her and it pleased her.

"Anyway, you'd better go. I don't want to bother my mother with these preparations. I'd prefer we did them while she has her sessions," his somewhat jovial mood taking a nosedive.

"Sure," she said, confused at his reaction but she shrugged it off. They'd actually made a bit of progress and he was civil if not teasing. She'd take it.

"I'll see you in a few days, then. I have one more thing, though. Luna wants to do an interview with you and your mother," she saw him about to protest and put up her hands in surrender. "Before you have a tantrum, you should know that the Quibbler readership is up by 40% since we've begun pointing out the human rights violations of the government against prisoners and accused. People can be swayed but only if they humanize you. Pansy and Theo have signed on, as well as a few…"

"Granger, take a breath," Draco said. "I don't want my mother involved. I'll do your stupid interview, but she doesn't need that stress."

"I don't think you understand how important she is for your narrative, Draco," Hermione said, using his given name in hopes it might help him understand she was on his side. "Her dismissal of the Death Eater culture, and her love for you make her an extremely relatable character. She helps your cause."

"My mother is not a character in your fairy tales, Granger," Draco said, tone icy cold. "I don't want her used as a pawn."

"Your pride will be the death of you, Malfoy," Hermione said sadly. "Just think about it. Owl me when you decide."

* * *

 ** _Day 154_**

"Here it is!" Hermione cried, quickly pulling _The Quibbler_ out of the stack of post and waving it at Harry, Ron, and Ginny. Her three friends chuckled at her excitement but Harry motioned her to join them on the couch and read the article aloud.

 ** _'Death Eater' Trials to Start: Who are these people?_**

 _The Wizengamot has announced the trials of Death Eaters will begin in three short weeks, the first being the three Malfoys followed by Voldemort's other inner circle members and their families. These trials had been delayed, indefinitely, as a political hot potato for months. As the nation looks at how to view these trials, it is important to know who is on trial and why._

The Quibbler had exclusive access to a few of the charged to tell their story and weed through the political mess that has been made of these trials and what to do after them.

 ** _Pansy Parkinson_**

 **Age:** 19  
 **Time already served:** 154 Days ** _  
_** **Crimes:** Obstruction, aiding and abetting Death Eaters, intention to take The Mark

 **Solicitor:** Anthony Wackspurt

 _Pansy Parkinson is daughter of Plutarch and Miriam Parkinson. Her father entered Voldemort's service before she was even born. Raised in the traditional way, with all the things associated with that, Pansy made her family proud by entering Slytherin House in the Class of 1998 and performing moderately well in her Academics._

 _Often resentful of others in the school who were rewarded for misbehavior as opposed to her perception that Slytherins were punished, she engaged in a hearty rivalry with Gryffindor House in particular. One of her most vivid memories of this resentment came her first year when Slytherin House won the House Cup only to have it snatched away at the last minute at the award ceremony. "Everyone clapped and cheered when we had the Cup stolen from us. I remember that night the Prefects reminding us that Slytherins can only trust each other. I believe he was right. No one wanted us around after Harry Potter got to school."_

 _Looking back, Parkinson believes her upset to be petty and childish. At the time, though, it was real and upsetting. Raised to believe she represented a noble house, she never could grasp why Muggle-borns and blood traitors were elevated to such a high place. "I still struggle," she admits. "How do you turn your back on something you've believed your whole life? We were not taught equality. We really believed that Muggle-borns were inferior. We had no idea that one could be as powerful as a Pureblood until we met Granger. At that point, we only resented her."_

And that resentment grew. As Voldemort came back from the grave, and her father was required to go to his side, Pansy's experience grew darker. She was surrounded by Dark Wizards and constantly scared. "I thought every day would be my last. The Dark Lord rewarded ruthlessness and everyone was hoping to prove himself."

 _Pansy admits she was ruthless herself. She, after all, suggest offering up Harry Potter to Voldemort int he Final Battle. "I just wanted it to be over. I thought if I helped bring Potter to the Dark Lord I'd be spared. I wasn't even looking for favor, at that point. I just wanted it all to be over. I was tired of living in fear."_

And now her fear lies in the system. Will it do her justice? Will it see her as a person? Or just a footnote in the Epic Battle between good and evil?

 ** _Theo Nott_**

 **Age:** _19_

 ** _Time already served:_** _152 Days  
_ ** _Crimes:_** _Taking the Dark Mark, Murder, Kidnapping, Rape, Terrorism  
_ ** _Solicitor:_** _Richard Ringle_

 _Theo's upbringing, like most Death Eater children, is nearly identical to Pansy Parkinson's. The mold was the same as it had been for Pureblood families for centuries. Unlike the Parkinson's, however, Theo's father was part of Voldemort's inner circle. he was a dedicated and obedient servant to his master and his family bore most of the punishment for that dedication._

 _Theo's childhood was painful and bleak as his father hoped to mold him into a perfect and dedicated soldier for Voldemort's army. But Theo wasn't cut out for that kind of life. An intelligent and sensitive child, he'd have rather spent more time with his tutors than in the dueling room leaning hoe to 'be a man'._

 _As he attended Hogwarts, he excelled a myriad academic pursuits as well as Quiddich, thought he always felt a bit of an outsider. His father's abuse made him leery of close relationships and contributed to an acute anxiety condition only exacerbated in his Sixth Year when he was forced to take the Dark Mark. His father presented him no alternative. Take the Mark or he'd be killed. Theo did not want to die._

 _"In many ways, it was inevitable. I knew I'd be a Death Eater, just as I knew my father would one day die for the Dark Lord. My life was written before I had a chance to make a choice," Theo says. "And it wasn't like we had a way out. Dumbledore very clearly favored anyone but Slytherins. I suppose he wanted to help Draco, at the last minute. After Draco was already lost. But in real terms, we all knew we were 'bad' and Potter's crowd was 'good'. Any confusion on the matter was wiped right out the minute we lost the House Cup. I worked so hard that year. After that, I never gave a bloody damn about House Points again."_

 _As for the more heinous charges, Theo asserts his innocence. "I never did any of the things attributed to me. I took the Mark. I had no choice. But I never had the stomach for the Revels. I took many a beating to avoid them. Better mending a broken rib in my room than be forced to watch what the more violent Death Eaters had in mind for innocent people."_

 ** _Draco Malfoy_**

 **Age:** _19_

 ** _Time already served:_** _154_ ** _  
Crimes:_** _Taking the Dark Mark, Murder, Kidnapping, Rape, Terrorism,_ ** _  
Solicitor:_** _Richard Ringle_

 _Draco Malfoy, from one of the most celebrated houses in Wizarding Britain, tells a tragic tale much like the ones before him. Raised in the traditional way, and pampered with every luxury one could bestow upon a boy, Draco had no reason to believe anything about his world view was amiss. His father, at the top of the world, was his hero and his mother, protective to her core, saved him from a fate like his compatriot, Theo._

 _At school, Draco excelled. Earning the top score for seven years in Potions, he also excelled at most other subjects, with the exception of Divination. His mentor and godfather, Severus Snape, guided him through Hogwarts and often let him slither out of trouble when he found it, which was often. The rivalry between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy is legendary. No one who attended Hogwarts with them could forget it. And Draco, painted the villain of the story, played the role to perfection._

 _"I had not a care in the world those first few years. I was arrogant. A brat. My father bought my way on the Quiddich team and I didn't even have the decency to be embarrassed by that fact," Draco admits with a chuckle. It wasn't until Voldemort returned at the end of his Fourth Year that Draco ever really faced what being a 'dark' wizard meant._

 _"Everything changed after that. Father changed. Mother became more withdrawn and I worried about her constantly. I no longer had that sheltered outlook. Things were bad and father didn't protect us from any of it. Not when his master called," Draco explains. From there, Draco was openly encouraged to antagonize Potter. No longer was it for fun, it was his job. And with that obligation came resentment. He didn't like being told what to do._

 _But he did hate Harry Potter. "I'm sure that will never change. There are just some people destined to hate each other. Potter and I…we are two of those people," Draco suggests._

 _And then, just like that, the world got darker. Lucius Malfoy displeased Voldemort by losing the prophecy in the Ministry of Magic and getting himself arrested. Draco, who had been considered the most promising recruit by Voldemort for some time, became the head of his troubled house, and therefore, his Father's emissary in his service to Voldemort. He was informed that very day that he'd be taking the Mark. There was no question. It would happen._

 _"At the time, I was too arrogant to even be scared. I assumed I'd be the greatest warrior in the history of the Death Eaters," Draco admits. But it wasn't long until that arrogance faded and he became more concerned with_ self-preservation _. "When I was told that I'd have to let Death Eaters into school and kill Dumbledore I knew I'd fail. Maybe I could get the Vanishing Cabinet_ mended _, but I'd never be able to kill the Greatest living wizard. But I did not want to die. I tried to do my task but my heart wasn't in it."_

 _As for the torture and murder, Draco was shielded from a lot of it while at school and never took part in the traditional Death Eater outings. "I claimed my task took my time at first. Then, after Dumbledore was dead, I mostly hid out in Malfoy Manor, tending to my mother. I never murdered or raped or tortured anyone," he asserts. "I don't have a taste for it. When Potter, Weasley, and Granger were brought to the Manor and my Aunt tortured Granger on our drawing room floor, it didn't give me satisfaction. Even though the girl bested me through school and I certainly didn't like her, it made my stomach turn watching her_ crucio'd _."_

 _When asked what Draco hopes comes of these trials he's rather pessimistic. "I don't expect much. People don't care about what happens to the children of Death Eaters. Just as no one cared how ostracizing Slytherins affected our desire to abandon prejudices. I imagine we'll be thrown in Azkaban for the rest of society to forget about."_

"It goes on from there with a few more profiles, mostly of known low-level Death Eaters," Hermione summed up.

"Wow," Ron said. "Kind of sad, when you think about it."

Ginny nodded absently but didn't say anything. She still didn't know how she felt about it all.

Hermione nodded solemnly. "I just hope other readers think so too," she said. "I shudder to think what Drumpf and Fudge's response will be."

Of course, it was not long until Hermione found out exactly what they had to say. Both separately released a statement condemning the article as insensitive to the victims of the Death Eaters and obvious emotional blackmail. Fudge asserted that compassion was useful but for some people there is no redemption. Drumpf went far off the rails, calling for the execution of all Death Eaters regardless of 'sob stories' they might have been able to concoct.

Hermione seethed, but refused to let it cloud her vision. She had work to do.

* * *

 ** _Day 161_**

Draco's eyes fluttered open as he was awakened when his leg came into contact with a hard object near his thigh. "What the…" A bushy head and an angelic face was plopped down on his bed. He realized Granger was there, sleeping at a right angle, using his bed as a pillow.

Her soft snores were rather cute and he looked over at his mother to make sure she was still asleep as well. She was. Looking back at Granger, he allowed himself to feel a bit endeared that she had stayed by his bedside. Last he knew she was packing up to go home when he slipped into sleep after a long visit from her. Really, she needn't come by anymore. They had nailed down everything for his trial within a week.

But came she did, nearly every other day, and he hadn't the heart to send her way. Truth be told, he liked her company. He liked it more than he should and her constant presence had even softened his resolve to push her away. Still, it was dangerous. If he let his mind wander down that path, not only would disappointment result, but he didn't need any reasons to hold onto this life. After all, in a few weeks, he'd probably be dead.

Still, she was beautiful when she slept. He reached out and touched her soft hair, running his fingers through it as she let out a soft moan and clung to her sleep. Loyal and beautiful and good. She was everything Draco was not.


	9. Author's Note

Hello everyone! This fic is NOT abandoned. I promise. Life is life and there are a lot of things going on right now. I'm working on the next chapter but I don't see it being ready for a while. I can only write like a paragraph at a time the way my life is right now. Nothing bad, just everyone and their mother getting married, kids growing up, and moving house take up a LOT of my time. Thanks so much for your patience. I love you all and love that you love reading my stories. Just stick with me. I have some fun ideas for this story.

Much Love!

Krystle


	10. Author's Note II

Still not abandoned. i know, i'm naughty. It's been years at this point. BUT I AM THINKING ABOUT THIS STORY. So chances are i'm gonna crank out a new chapter at some point soon. Please stick with me, guys. I have an iron will not to leave any story abandoned. Just, life man...it's a busy thing.

xxx

Krystle


	11. The ISOWW

**A/N: I'm baaaaack! Now, the hope is i can crank out a few more chapters before life takes over again. We shall see. Thanks so much to people who have stuck by me and this story! I love you all.**

 **The ISOWW**

 **Day 164**

Hermione was not exactly sure when it was she'd last gotten a full stretch of sleep. She felt like she was on the verge of something and she wouldn't be able to rest until she saw it through. She'd been telling the truth when she said she didn't think she could find a way around Draco's guilt in joining the Death Eaters and letting them into Hogwarts the night Dumbledore died. For that reason, she knew she'd have to come up with something more than compassion to keep the Wizengamot from using that as a means to lock him in Azkaban and throw away the key.

It was clear to her that Draco Malfoy was no threat to society. Nor were Theo Nott, Pansy Parkinson, or nearly 40 other children of Death Eaters being tried over the coming weeks. As Theo and Pansy's trials began, she could already tell what was in store for Draco and his mother, and it meant she needed a Hail Mary to keep him from being put right back in Azkaban where he'd nearly died.

'It's a last shot. Bureaucracy is slow. I'm not sure if we'll have time, but we have to try. I have a contact in the ISOWW that promises to push this issue to top priority.' Healer Goldstein had been such a comfort to Hermione because he cared as much as she did about justice. He had barely rested, either, with keeping up with the Azkaban patients.

'And what would this do, exactly?' she asked, not wanting to get her hopes up.

'Wizarding Britain is dependent on the International Society of Witches and Wizards. They've leveraged so many assets fighting two massive wars against Voldemort. Their trade agreements are tied to that relationship. If the ISOWW agrees to step in here, we, at the very least have bought full scale prison reform and sentencing oversight.' Healer Goldstein explained. 'Moreover, the interim Minister doesn't know international policy from a hole in the ground. They'll never be able to predict this.'

Hermione rocked back on her heals. Could it be? Could this really happen? She didn't want to get ahead of herself. 'What can i do to speed the process?'

'Nothing, unfortunately,' the healer replied giving her a small smile. 'And I don't think you should mention it to the Malfoys or anyone else. There is no need for any of these defendants to count on something that might not even happen.'

'You are right,' she agreed. 'Okay. Thank you so much for your help. I would have never known how to go about this without you.'

'Anything I can do, I'm here,' he offered. 'This is not right. It hasn't been right in Britain for a very long time.' Hermione smiled warmly and nodded at him before tucking the slip of paper he handed to her behind the rest of the papers in her hand and heading to the Malfoys' room.

'Miss Granger, lovely to see you again,' Narcissa said with a weak smile. She was perched on her bed, noble as ever, in a satin blue dressing gown. She looked so much healthier since leaving Azkaban, but Hermione could tell what Draco meant when he said she was always a little 'fragile'. While her color was back, and she'd filled out to her normal waif-like figure, she always seemed on the verge of a fainting spell. She just hoped Mrs. Malfoy could make it through her trial without incident.

'It's lovely to see you, as always,' Hermione smiled brightly. 'Is Draco...'

'Oh, he'll be back very shortly. He's meeting with Healer Schmidt.' Hermione almost did a double take. She was one-hundred percent certain she'd heard Draco state that he'd rather make love to a Hippogriff than talk to what he called 'the bloody quack'. Healer Schmidt had been brought in from the Wizarding community of Munich to handle mental and psychological illness. She would also serve as a key witness in the trials - particularly those of the less than willing members of the Death Eaters.

Narcissa's delicate giggle broke Hermione from her internal thoughts. 'Oh, believe me. He did not go willingly.' Hermione sort of smiled at that before plopping down in her usual chair next to the table where she wrote her notes. 'I think it's good he goes,' Mrs. Malfoy said.

In the last several weeks Hermione had been able to get to know the Lady of Malfoy Manor, the older woman rarely offered much past what was needed for trial and general polite small talk. Hermione got the feeling that Narcissa genuinely appreciated her, but that she didn't know what to do with that information given that Hermione was, in fact, muggle-born. So, it was fairly uncharacteristic when Mrs. Malfoy continued.

'In our culture, we don't talk about the bad times,' She said, averting her eyes from Hermione's. 'Talking to Healer Schmidt makes me realize that my bad times are not as unusual as I had been led to believe. I've always struggled with my emotions, my anxieties. I assumed this was all part of being a dedicated wife, mother, and madam of a large estate. And Draco...'

She paused for a moment, seeming to try to think about how she wanted to word what she was about to say, 'I'm given to understand my condition is passed in the blood. I know it doesn't always manifest itself the same ways. Draco is not given to long bouts of the weepies. But it is hard for me to imagine how he could get through the past year without some lasting damage. I don't think I've protected him well enough.'

'Mrs. Malfoy, you have done better than most,' Hermione said, her eyes glistening. She felt honored that the women felt comfortable enough to say something so personal to her. 'Draco has been better protected than most other children in his position. That is _entirely_ due to you.' Narcissa looked up with her with a small smile, but before she could say anything they heard Draco entering the room.

'Granger, do you ever sleep?' he asked, but his tone was jovial.

'Nope,' she said with a pop of her lips. 'I can sleep in about three weeks when this trial is over.'

Draco just snorted. 'I can't imagine what there is left for you to do. You know the story inside out, upside down. I'm pretty sure you've read every law book in Wizarding Britain, and I've just come from 'the quack'. She better give me high marks or I'm going to be thoroughly put out that I had to talk to her about things that are none of her business.'

Narcissa 'tisked' him but Hermione shook her head and chuckled. Draco was actually pretty funny when he wanted to be. 'It's okay, Mrs. Malfoy. That's just Draco's way of saying, 'Thank you Hermione. I'm forever in your debt for finding me an expert professional to help me with my case.'

Draco mumbled something under his breath but he didn't say anything further on the matter.

'I believe it is my turn with Healer Schmidt,' the Malfoy matriarch said getting up quietly from her place on the bed. 'I will leave you to it.'

'Do you need help, Mother?' Draco asked, standing at attention.

'Oh no, dear. I've been there enough times to know my way.' Draco nodded and walked over to the other chair at Hermione's table.

'You look terrible,' he finally said. And she did. She looked like she hadn't slept or eaten in ages. In the pit of his gut he felt guilty about that. That was an unusual feeling for him on its own.

It had been a terribly strange day anyway. He was not prone to talking about his feelings or his life with anyone. But his freedom was dependent on enough people arguing that he had no real malice in him, even when he was doing illegal deeds. That meant he had to have a session with is mother's head doctor. It wasn't at all like he'd thought it would be. He was expecting to be shown pictures of terrible scenes and having her check if he was excited by them or not. In reality, she just asked a lot of questions and demanded he talk - a lot. He was talked out for the next week.

It had been a struggle at first. Old habits are hard to break, and he did not _want_ to talk about his relationship with his father, or Snape, or the Dark Lord, or Granger. How in the world Granger came into matters he could not remember, but Schmidt sure did a lot of writing when he talked about the help she'd given him and his mother.

'Thanks, ever so,' Hermione replied with a roll of the eyes. 'You sure do know the way to a woman's heart.'

'You aren't a woman,' Draco quipped back. 'You are Granger.'

If Ron had said it, that comment would have truly hurt. But under the surface, she knew Draco was just being Draco. So, instead of responding, she moved right along. 'I've got one last meeting with your solicitor this week before the trial starts next week. I get the feeling he is overburdened with other defendants, unfortunately.'

'Perfect,' Draco said, with a sigh.

'All is not lost. Kings - er, that is Kingsley - has explained that these trials are very informal. While that is frustrating to due process and rule of law, it allows me to represent you with more detail and understanding of the situation. I've already done so with the preliminary part of Pansy Parkinson's trial, and I feel confident,' Hermione said.

Draco nodded. 'Okay. I don't want to think about what will happen after this is over. I assume my mother and I won't be let back to St. Mungo's. It will be back to Azkaban.'

'I don't want you to think like that...'

'Well, why the hell not, exactly. Even if you can get these people to pity me, I'm actually guilty,' Draco reasoned. 'With Fudge hoping to look tough on crime and Drumpf ready to execute anyone who has ever even looked at a Dark Mark, I cannot imagine how I avoid going back there.' Draco stared down at the table in front of him, sighing heavily.

Hermione bit her lip and extended her hand to his. When he didn't flinch or move away, she squeezed it in hers. 'No one is going back to Azkaban in the condition it is in,' she swore. He looked up at her. The intensity in her eyes was so strong it nearly knocked him over. He wanted to tell her she was living pipe dreams, but after looking at her, he believed her. He didn't know why, but he believed that she would never let Azkaban stand, if it was the last thing she did.

'Okay,' he said simply. He missed the warmth of her hand when she let go of his.

 **Day 169**

 ** _The Daily Prophet_**

 ** _What is Muggle-born Hermione Granger doing with Draco Malfoy?_**

 _As the joint trial for Draco and Narcissa Malfoy approaches, they are receiving aide from a most unlikely source. Former Gryffindor and Harry Potter's friend, Hermione Granger has made it her personal mission to see to it Death Eaters are coddled through the process of justice._

 _While Miss Granger has been present at the first of the trials, even giving sworn testimony in favor of a handful of former Slytherin class-mates like Pansy Parkinson (to be remanded to Azkaban as soon as the facility undergoes minor reform for a sentence of 1 year) and Theo Nott (to be remanded to Azkaban as soon as the facility undergoes minor reform for a sentence of 10 years), the Malfoys will be the first trial where Hermione Granger acts in the capacity of co-counsel - despite her obvious lack of relevant scholarship in law. The question is, why?_

 _We know Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater. We know Miss Granger was tortured in his home, probably by him and his mother. What possible reason could she have for defending these terrorists? Has her penchant for 'social justice' caused her to lose all reason? Would she really sell her people down the river to protect one man? Has she been blackmailed in some way? So many questions. Hopefully, the answers will reveal themselves on Tuesday when the Malfoys begin their trial._

'Utter fucking rubbish,' Hermione said, throwing the paper down. Harry chuckled into his bowl of cereal.

'Why you even subscribe to that rag anymore I'll never know,' he said.

'If Fudge and Drumpf are our only candidate for minister, I at least need to keep up with what horrifying things they are saying,' Hermione reasoned.

'Oh, I can give you the gist,' Harry said. He cleared his throat in spoke in an affected voice, eerily close to that of Jeanine Fudge, 'Well, you see, good people of Wizarding Britain. Only I can truly understand the tough times we face. Here with my massively wealthy donors, we know just the right path through the middle to make sure we get rich while the rest of you get fed bread and circuses...'

Hermione busted out laughing. 'Oh god, Harry. How long have you been working on that?'

'I'm not done,' he grinned. He turned the other direction and cleared his throat again. This time he pursed his lips together the way Reginald Drumpf always did. 'We shall never accept this kind of degradation of British society again! We shall make Wizarding Britain great again by going back in time and purifying society of subversive thoughts and actions! It's going to be a great society, the best. Believe me.'

'I'm dying,' Hermione wheezed. 'He sounds just like that.'

'I'm glad I could make you smile,' Harry said fondly. 'You are far too tense. I'm going to insist you go out with me, Ron, and Ginny tonight and relax.'

'Harry, I don't think I should...'

'I won't hear it, Hermione.' Harry said in a no-nonsense tone. 'You have prepared everything you can prepare and you need your rest. The trial is in a few days and until then, you can't do anything else.'

She wanted to protest but he was right. 'Okay,' she said. 'But only one drink.'

Four drinks later, Hermione was pleasantly smashed and she, Harry, Ron, and Ginny happily giggled as they stomped up the stairs of 12 Grimmauld Place. Thank goodness Harry finally got that old bat off the wall so she no longer screamed obscenities at them every time they made a peep.

'You staying the night, mate?' Harry asked Ron.

'No way can I go home like this. Mum'd kill me,' Ron laughed.

'Okay, see you...' Harry cried, dashing up the stairs with Ginny right behind.

'You think they wanted to get rid of us?' Hermione asked with her eyebrow raised.

'I do _not_ want to think about it,' Ron slurred with a shudder. 'I better get of to bed myself.'

'Yeah, me too,' Hermione said, turning to her room on a wobbly leg.

'Wait,' Ron said, a little too loud. She spun around and clung to the door for balance. Things were getting a little swirly. She definitely needed a Sober-up potion before bed.

'I just wanna say,' Ron said, still slurring, 'I know why you are helping that wanker Malfoy.'

'Huh?'

'Well, you know, you can't not help him. If there is injustice, you have to fix it. That's you. That's Harry, too. I just want you to know, I get it. We all get it, even if we don't...get it. You know?' Ron said, looking as if he'd confused himself with his own comment.

Hermione launched herself in her friend's arms, nearly knocking him over. 'Thank you, Ron. It means so much to me.'

Ron grinned back, smacked a kiss on her cheek and then stalked up the stairs to the guest bedroom.

 **Day 171**

Draco felt like he was going to puke. Taking a few deep breaths, he finished buttoning his impeccable robes, making himself presentable for his mother's approval. She looked beautiful in modest grey robes. He could tell she was nervous but she was holding it together admirably.

'They will be here any minute,' he said uselessly. He just felt the need to fill the silence. Granger had told him what to expect and he knew she'd be at the chamber when he got there, but he still didn't know if he was prepared. His stomach was in knots.

'Ready?' It was Healer Goldstein. He'd personally offered to escort them to the Ministry for the trial.

'Yes,' he said, standing up straight. 'Mum?' he offered her his arm and she graciously took it.

'I'm ready, dear,' she said, but the quiver in her voice was noticeable to him. He squeezed her hand and the followed the healer to the Apparition point.

'Surely, you understand that Madam Malfoy's mental health is tied to her ability to be near her son,' Richard Ringle argued. It had already been decided that for the duration of the trial, Narcissa could stay at St. Mungo's receiving treatment but that Draco would have to stay in Ministry detention.

'And surely _you_ understand, Solicitor, that we are here to exact justice, not to operate as a concierge taking requests,' the Wizengamot's representative replied.

Hermione's nails bit into her hands as she sighed in frustration. 'Mr. Malfoy has nowhere to go. He has no money. He has no access to international portkeys. He's as safe at St. Mungo's where he's been for weeks as he would be here.' Ringle reasoned.

'The matter is finished,' Jeanine Fudge's voice carried over the din. 'Draco Malfoy will stay in Ministry custody. Narcissa Malfoy will return to St. Mungo's. This is, after all, a very fair decision taking into account factors that this body is not required to consider.'

Hermione knew the matter was settled as most of the Wizengamot nodded in agreement. Well, it wasn't ideal, but hopefully the trial wouldn't last long anyway.

'Now, shall we get started?' the prosecutorial solicitor asked.

With a nod from the interim Minister, the trial began.

'And you did not call the Aurors when they brought Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger into your home?' asked the stout, oily solicitor who was prosecuting the case.

'I did not,' Narcissa answered, primly. 'I very much wanted to live.'

'And where you a party to the torture that occurred in your drawing room?' he asked.

'In the sense that I did not stop it, yes. But I did not torture anyone, and I've made clear to Miss Granger that I'm deeply sorry for what happened to her in my home,' Narcissa said. Hermione smiled and nodded in her direction. There was a murmur all around the room.

'And why, exactly, did you open your home to Voldemort?' he asked, switching topics quickly.

'I was not given a choice. I certainly would not have invited him willingly. My interest was in protecting my family, my son,' she answered. Hermione was proud of how strong and clear she was being. She had worried that the stress of the trial would be too much.

The questioning went on and on, and after a time, Hermione could tell that Narcissa was growing tired. As his mother deteriorated, so, too did Draco's patience.

'It's been hours on the same topic, Granger,' he hissed.

'I know,' she said more to herself before standing up. 'Excuse me!' she called waving her hand in the air like she used to in Professor Snape's class. 'I believe Mrs. Malfoy might need a break. Could we please allow her a rest?'

'Do you think her victims were given rest?' someone from the back called. Hermione recognized him. He was a supporter of Drumpf - a very vocal one.

'Considering I'm the only 'victim' any of you have ever found that Narcissa Malfoy has any remote relationship to, I'd think you'd take my wishes into account,' she countered, raising her eyebrow at him.

Harry snorted next to her, and there was a rumble of amused chatter around her.

'I'm finished anyway,' said the prosecutor.

'Let's resume tomorrow,' the Minister said with a nod of his head.

Hermione and Draco let out joint sighs of relief. Before they escorted the Malfoys out of the room, to go their separate ways, Hermione promised to be the go between for them while they were separated.

'Thanks, Granger,' Draco said, the corner of his mouth turning up into what could only be described as a smile.


End file.
